The Love That Binds Us
by CarpeDiemForLife
Summary: "Let me help you with that." Merlin and Mordred initially are just seeking someone to understand them, but they find much more than they were looking for. Follows the journey of Merlin and Mordred's progressing relationship: from unwilling acquaintances, to unlikely friends, to... something more? Merdred.
1. The Beginning

_Author's Note: Alright everyone. I'm officially on board the Merdred ship. This story began to write itself immediately after S5E2, so here it is. Comments are always welcome and appreciated._

* * *

"Let me help you with that."

Mordred had heard those exact words so often now that they brought an inexplicable smirk to his face. The first time that Merlin had spoken them, Mordred had felt very uneasy and the following conversation wasn't one he had taken lightly.

But now, Merlin had made a habit of this little ritual, and Mordred had relaxed. While he knew enough to still hide _parts_ of himself, he'd soon realized that Merlin would not be taken in by the same innocent act that everyone else had fallen for, and therefore he felt much freer around Merlin: freer with both his words and actions. As such, he eventually discovered that he didn't entirely dislike Merlin's presence.

The knight felt Merlin's arms wrap around him and his pulse quickened, as it always did. Mordred felt the weight lift off of him as Merlin undid his cloak and carried it away.

"You took quite a beating today, practicing with Gwaine," commented Merlin conversationally. Mordred smiled as he tugged off his gloves and Merlin came to help him with his sword and chain mail.

"Yes, well, I would never improve my sword-fighting abilities if I only ever challenged the lesser knights. And of course, you and I both know that I could best Gwaine any time I pleased."

"Of course. If you fancied a swift execution, that is. Personally I think you're better off sticking to the occasional beating."

Mordred laughed quietly. The musical tone soothed Merlin even as it prickled him with discomfort. The sound made Merlin picture a burbling brook timidly racing across stones; it sounded altogether too sweet and innocent to belong to Arthur's future murderer. The contrast between Mordred's appearance and his true self set Merlin on edge.

"Obviously. I have no intent to make my magic known."

"Yes, you _have_ been very cautious with your magic since coming here. Haven't used it once, as far as I've seen."

"What, keeping an eye on me, Emrys? Or do you just like to look?" he quipped. Mordred could practically hear Merlin biting back a retort. He smirked, but there was a part of him that was saddened.

This innate distrust that Merlin clearly had for him was quite the bother. Perhaps had it not been there, Merlin would feel comfortable enough around Mordred to be himself, like the way he was with Arthur. Mordred envied them that relationship, and especially envied Arthur having access to that side of Merlin. Though Merlin sometimes made humorous comments to Mordred, like he might with any friend, more often he restrained himself. And always, _always_ there was a deadly serious undertone to their conversations. If only Merlin would just _relax_, lay down his guard for just a _minute_.

It was silly really; Mordred had no particular interest in garnering the friendships of his fellow knights, and yet those had come easily. Much too easily, the fools. Truly it was Emrys that Mordred longed for, and, of course, it was Emrys he could not have. It was such an odd feeling. He didn't wish for Merlin's friendship, but he wished for his company, his companionship. In the way that villains are inexplicably drawn to their respective heroes, so did Mordred feel himself drawn to Merlin. He both loved and hated that Merlin was too intelligent to befriend him quickly, as all the others had done.

Breaking free of his musings, Mordred glanced over at Merlin putting away his garments.

"They'll wrinkle if you leave them folded like that. Have you truly worked in the palace for years?" he asked, his expression as blank as a fresh sheet of parchment.

"…as big a prat as Arthur…" he heard the King's manservant mutter. Mordred's eyes twinkled as his mouth transitioned smoothly into the tiniest of smiles. _That_ was the Merlin he wanted. The perfectly contrary man: a nearly all-powerful warlock that was somehow a young man full of spunk, wit, and gaiety. If only Merlin would allow him more glimpses at that man.

Merlin finished his work and made straight for the door. Mordred watched him leave in silence: by now he was used to Merlin leaving without giving any indication first that the end of their conversation had come.

The door closed quietly. Mordred wandered over to his bed, allowing his thoughts to linger momentarily on the eternally puzzling and fascinating Emrys.

* * *

Merlin's hands deftly saddled the horse, muscle memory taking over the simple task. Merlin's gaze drifted over to Sir Mordred, as it often did these days. Merlin felt rather reluctant to _ever_ take his eyes off the suspicious young knight, but that couldn't be avoided. Mordred was currently saddling his own horse, seeming as innocent as ever.

"Merlin!"

The servant's head snapped up towards his master, an expression of pure innocence on his face.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Stop daydreaming and finish saddling my horse! The ride is meant to take place _today_, you know," the King said dryly. Merlin's mouth twitched with a grin.

"Yes, Arthur."

Finishing up his work, Merlin looked once more in Mordred's direction. This time, the object of his gaze was already staring back at him, and their eyes met. The remnants of his grin vanished as his anxiety levels climbed. Merlin had this reaction every time their eyes met or they stood too close together.

His heart pounding uncomfortably, Merlin couldn't bring himself to look away from the beautiful druid boy- well, man. Mordred stared back, looking much calmer than Merlin felt. It wasn't until Arthur claimed Merlin's attentions again that their eyes broke apart, and it took even longer for Merlin's heart to settle down once more.

* * *

Behind him, the door opened and closed, and Mordred's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. There was only one person that it could possibly be. Even now, with his back turned, Mordred could feel the familiar intensity of Merlin's watchful eyes locked upon him.

He was reluctant to admit how much the sensation bothered him, but bother him it did. The feeling had been immediate upon his reunion with Arthur and Merlin, and had not faded since. In fact, it had only intensified over time. It made Mordred feel acutely uncomfortable, but he did his best to hide this fact, and knew that he succeeded.

"Let me help you with that."

The familiar sensation of Merlin's arms reaching around him was enough to keep Mordred silent for just another moment. As his cloak was taken away, he asked, "Shouldn't you be with the King?"

"Why? Concerned about him?" The brittle tone was impossible to miss.

"Why shouldn't I be?" replied Mordred, feigning perfect obliviousness, "He is my King, after all."

"Yes, well, despite appearances to the contrary, Arthur _can_ take care of himself reasonably well in my absence. So long as I'm not gone for more than an hour or so, anyways."

Mordred gave an honest chuckle at this, and Merlin found himself smiling in response. It surprised him, having the ability to elicit a laugh from the enigmatic young man. The smile died quickly as he reminded himself of his dislike of Mordred.

"Doesn't it ever bother you?" Mordred asked quietly, breaking the silence. Merlin's eyebrows rose. The tone was unusually sincere and solemn for Mordred.

"What?"

"That Arthur has no idea what you do for him."

Merlin stopped in his tracks momentarily. Pulling himself together, he finished collecting the pieces of Mordred's uniform. Mordred turned around, facing Merlin so that they were finally looking directly at one another.

"You've saved his life countless times, protected him from ever coming to harm, and he still treats you like some half-wit servant. It must hurt."

Merlin tensed slightly, but chose not to affirm the statement.

"Arthur treats me like a _friend_," he said instead.

Mordred's piercing blue eyes softened. "Yes… Yes, he does. It's not difficult to see your affection for one another."

Merlin decided not to make any reply to this claim, and so silence overtook them. After another minute, Mordred spoke again.

"But what about my people, Emrys? _Your_ people. Arthur has been King for years, yet magic is still outlawed, the Druids still hidden in fear. All magical people, forever on the run. How can you bear doing nothing?"

"And what do you think I can do, exactly?" asked Merlin harshly.

"_Talk _to him! Tell him the truth!" exclaimed Mordred. "You may be the only one able to make the King see reason, to make him repeal the restrictions on magic that plague the kingdom." Mordred searched Merlin's face desperately, but the older man let none of his thoughts show.

"What you're saying is practically treason," voiced Merlin dispassionately. Mordred's expression grew cold.

"I know you, Emrys. I know you desire the same things that I do. There's no reason for such hostility between us. We are very much alike, you and I."

And Merlin walked out of the room.

* * *

"Merlin?"

Merlin answered with a vague 'mmm' as he continued to dress the King.

"There's something I want to ask you."

"Yes?" Merlin replied, focused too much on the task at hand to take note of the tint of discomfort in Arthur's voice.

"I've noticed… lately… that you seem to be…[he cleared his throat]… spending a good deal of time in Sir Mordred's chambers," said Arthur, the words awkwardly forcing their way out of his mouth.

Finally, Merlin's attention snapped to the King, his eyes flying wide open. His fingers were poised frozen in the middle of their work.

"_What_?" was his immediate response, the single word drenched with his shock. Arthur turned to face his manservant, looking distinctly embarrassed, though he seemed to be making an effort to hide it. In any other situation Merlin might have laughed at the poor attempt, but he currently stood stock-still, his mind blank.

"What do you take me for, Merlin? I'm no dunce, like you! Nearly every time that you, the knights and I return from a hunt or other such occupation, you immediately disappear for a time, and I've seen you going to and coming from Mordred's chambers on a number of those occasions," explained the King with a hint of irritated exasperation (a tone with which Merlin was very familiar).

Merlin finally shook himself from his stupor. Grinning cheekily, he replied, "I must say, Arthur, I'm impressed that you've even noticed. It's quite a change from your usual oblivious nature."

Arthur scowled and whacked Merlin, who emitted a good-natured "Ow!" and rubbed the assaulted shoulder.

"The point is… I need to know if… is there…"

Merlin stared at his fumbling Lord, his brow creased in honest confusion. Arthur made a face. This wouldn't be so damned awkward if Merlin would just understand him and reply! Why must the boy be such an _idiot_ at times?

"Are you two…?" Arthur made some vague gestures with his hands, every muscle in his body tense with anxiety by this point. Finally Merlin understood, Arthur's implications breaking through his barrier of naivety.

"No! No, of course not, never!" he erupted loudly. "How could you… That's… Absolutely not!"

Arthur visibly relaxed, though he rolled his eyes. The shocked outrage and disgust in Merlin's voice were too real to be an act. So his assumptions had been wrong then. He was rather glad of it. That could have been very awkward indeed.

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry. Honestly though, Merlin, you never cease to amaze me with how impossibly _thick_ you are," scolded Arthur fondly. Merlin grimaced, but returned to his earlier task.

"I'm not the one who asked such an idiotic question," he mumbled rebelliously. Arthur's eyebrows rose.

"Excuse me, _what_ was that?"

"Nothing!" responded Merlin brightly. Arthur smirked and Merlin couldn't help smiling as well. The conversation quickly turned to other things, and though a touch of awkwardness lingered between the two men, neither mentioned the uncomfortable conversation they had just shared, and soon it was as if it had never happened at all.

Well, except for the thoughts that now raced through Merlin's mind, even as they spoke.

_You'll never understand, Arthur. Mordred's right; you'll never appreciate what I do for you. You assume that my time spent with him is due to something romantic, rather than seeing what it truly is: yet another of my efforts to keep an eye on someone who will one day betray you. You will never know how much I look out for you, how much I protect you. And it does hurt._

* * *

"Your Majesty is too kind," Mordred objected politely, his voice soft in the midst of the dining hall's clamor. "It was nothing so spectacular as you make it out to be."

Arthur grinned and shook his head, gesturing his fork towards the knight for emphasis.

"No such thing! It was truly an incredible shot. I tell you, I'm not sure even _I_ could have taken that beast down the way you did."

This time Mordred inclined his head graciously, accepting Arthur's compliments and the additional praises of his fellow knights, all of whom exploded with raucous cheers or saw fit to pound his back in congratulations. Mordred accepted it all with a modest smile.

Observing from across the room, Merlin felt his stomach twist unhappily. Upon joining the ranks of the King's knights, Mordred had quickly bonded with the other men, becoming a favorite even. His silky black hair, pale skin, rounded face, and big blue eyes somehow combined to form a picture of innocence and purity that Arthur and his knights had been all too eager to accept.

Mordred was sure to act the part well. He maintained a quiet, respectful demeanor at all times, and though he was not as boisterous and, well, _fun_, as most of the other knights, neither was he all seriousness. His lovely smile frequently graced his lips, and he even allowed himself the occasional chuckle. He was, in the eyes of his fellow knights, sweet and endearing. In Merlin's eyes, he was as much a threat to King and kingdom as Morgana had ever been.

Mordred's eyes flashed up and caught Merlin staring at him. Their eyes locked, neither face revealing anything.

_He certainly likes to exaggerate, our King, doesn't he?_ The voice echoed suddenly inside Merlin's head, as it hadn't since the days of Mordred's youth. Taken aback, Merlin tensed and blinked rapidly, as if that would somehow erase the sound. The tiniest of smirks twitched in the corner of Mordred's mouth at Merlin's reaction.

_Well? You were there yourself. I did nothing too spectacular_.

Merlin understood the implication, heard it in the younger man's tone, and his jaw clenched. His conscience, the side of him that feared and disliked Mordred, felt that he shouldn't reply… but he couldn't help himself. It felt wrong to let the words die in his head without responding in some way.

_You didn't use magic, no, if that's what you're saying._

Merlin blinked confusedly. Had Mordred winked at him?

_No indeed. Our dear King probably wouldn't take too kindly to that, _thought Mordred, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Merlin stiffened at what he perceived as a threat. Noticing this, Mordred's amused expression faded into a blank one. Merlin didn't know if he was only imagining that bit of tension in the young druid's jaw.

_I told you, Emrys, you have nothing to fear from me. _Merlin wasn't quite sure how he managed to repress a snort. Perhaps it was because he did not find the irony of the situation to be funny at all. _I will keep your secret. Why don't you trust me?_

Merlin's eyes remained fixed on Mordred's and he saw the burning curiosity there, the intense desire to solve the puzzle.

He thought nothing in return, allowing his cold look to suffice as his answer. A flash of irritated disappointment crossed the knight's face, but then Sir Elyan clapped him on the shoulder, and his careful mask immediately slid back into place.

The two sorcerers broke eye contact as Mordred quickly entered into conversation with Gwen's brother. He did not speak to Merlin for the remainder of the evening.

* * *

Mordred made his way back to his chambers, having just escorted a very drunken Sir Gwaine back to his room with Elyan's help. His boots clicked against the stone floors, the only sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

The door creaked as he opened it, and shut quietly behind him. The knight paced forward towards the bed- and stopped. A small smile lit his face.

Merlin emerged from the shadows of the wall, as if he'd melted out of the stones themselves. Mordred couldn't help admiring such understated grace. He turned to face his visitor.

"Why did you speak to me tonight?" Merlin asked bluntly.

"I didn't realize it was such a crime," was Mordred's light reply.

Merlin stepped closer to the figure of his nightmares, his heart rate elevating as he did so, just as it always did. It made Merlin feel weak, but how could he not fear the man destined to bring about Arthur's downfall? The man who confused him beyond all reckoning and reason. The vision of Arthur's death at Mordred's hands should have been enough to forever convince the warlock of Mordred's evil nature; and yet, Merlin felt lost.

Why had Mordred saved Arthur's life from Morgana? What could he possibly gain? Was this all a set up? What were his motivations?

It didn't help of course that Merlin could never grasp Mordred's thoughts; his disguise was too perfect. It was impossible for Merlin to know what was really going on behind those crystal blue eyes.

"You never did answer me, Emrys," said Mordred softly, his voice interrupting Merlin's thoughts. Merlin's eyes flashed quickly to the other man's. "Why do you distrust me so?"

Quiet enveloped the room as Merlin blinked slowly, mentally forming his reply. Just as Mordred's skin began to prickle with annoyance at the wait, Merlin calmly answered, "I never said I _did_." Rage flamed up in Mordred's eyes and his mask vanished, replaced with an angry snarl.

"_Dammit_, Emrys!" Merlin gave a start at Mordred's unexpected outburst. It pleased Mordred to see the fear—the fear that normally the servant-boy managed to conceal—flooding into Merlin's eyes.

"You've never trusted me, never!" he seethed. "You almost let me _die_ when I was a little boy. You nearly betrayed me, betrayed _Arthur_! And _now_… Ever since we were reunited all you've done is _watch_ me. Your eyes on me constantly, I can feel them, always burning into me. Even after I gave you bread. Even after I _saved_ Arthur's life, and he made me a knight. Your gaze stays fixed on me, always, a presence I can't ignore, not ever! Why, Emrys? What fuels this fear of me that causes you to distrust my presence this way? What great wrong have I done you?"

Merlin was stunned by the torrent of passionate words bursting forth from the knight. When Mordred ceased, he glared expectantly at Merlin, his white fists clenched with barely restrained fury, his muscles trembling.

"You know who _I_ am and you know _yourself_," answered Merlin harshly, his voice even though his heartbeat was not. "I wager you can make a fairly good guess."

"What does that _mean_?" yelled Mordred. His eyes flashed and an unseen power hurled Merlin against the wall with impressive force. Merlin's face crinkled at the sudden pain but he quickly straightened back up, only to be pinned firmly in place against the wall by Mordred's arm shoved against his throat. Neither was that the only force keeping Merlin in place: he could feel magic shoving against him.

"Don't you understand, Emrys?" The druid's voice came out as a strangled whisper, betraying hints of anger and pain. "We should be working _together_, not fighting one another. You are the only of my kind here, as I am the only of yours. Only _I _can ever understand you. Why can we not rely on each other, talk openly with one another? Your misplaced distrust of me is blinding you from what we should be.

"I am one of your people, Emrys. How can you abandon me to suffer alone, cut off from everything that is known to me, when you yourself are all I need? This isolation will kill me. I can never belong with these people; only with you do I belong. And yet you seem perfectly content to let me suffer in my unavoidable separation, rather than join with me. Just think, Emrys, how it could be! Why can you not see it?"

A rough, choking sound emitted itself from Merlin's throat. Mordred suddenly became aware of what he was doing and his arm quickly retracted, the bonds of magic dissipating simultaneously.

Merlin bent over, a hand pressed against the wall to steady himself, coughing loudly. Mordred grimaced at the harsh, scratchy quality of the sounds; he felt as though he should apologize. He scowled instead. Emrys deserved no apology, and he damn well wouldn't get one!

"Get out," he sneered. Merlin's blue eyes locked briefly with Mordred's, and the glance was charged with an intensity that nearly sent Mordred stumbling backwards. But then the moment was gone, and Merlin was obliging him by leaving.

* * *

"Merlin?"

Merlin's head snapped up. "Yes?"

Gaius looked concerned.

"You've hardly touched your food."

Merlin looked down and saw that Gaius was right, his bowl was still full.

"What's troubling you, Merlin?"

Forcing a smile onto his face, Merlin said, "Nothing. I was just distracted, sorry, Gaius."

"With what?" was the skeptical reply.

"With the, um… tournament coming up! Lots of preparations. Arthur's loading me down with jobs. Not that he doesn't always, of course."

The physician still looked unconvinced.

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"Mhmm! In fact, I've got to go to my room now, sort a few details out. Thanks for the stew though, it was great." With that, Merlin was bounding away, up the steps to his bedroom.

"But you barely had any!" Gaius cried out- but it was in vain. The door had already slammed shut behind his (unofficially) adoptive son.

* * *

Merlin sank down onto his bed with a sigh. He hated lying to Gaius, and he didn't even really know why he was doing it. He rarely hid _anything_ from Gaius anymore, not even his suspicions about Mordred. But this was something different. This wasn't any increased suspicion of Mordred's ill intent, but rather a sense of compassion and guilt that Mordred had stirred up within him.

Merlin told himself that it ought to be absurd, allowing himself to feel anything for the man destined to kill Arthur, but he couldn't force his feelings to change. So much of what Mordred had said felt all too familiar.

_Only I can ever understand you… I can never belong with these people… suffer in my unavoidable separation…_

It rang so true. Merlin had dealt with that same separation for many years now: all his life, in truth. It was a terrible burden, to be so different, to have a side of you that no one could ever even see, much less comprehend. And Merlin at least had at various times had the companionship of his mother, Will, Gaius, and Lancelot, all of whom knew his secret. But Mordred truly had no one. Not anymore. Merlin doubted that he himself could bear such a fate.

The troubled young warlock remained in bed for the rest of the evening, his mind never at rest. Thoughts of Mordred kept him awake late into the night. What should he be feeling? How should he act?

This wasn't even a matter of merely his _own_ feelings holding him back; Merlin was certain that the druid disliked him with equal fervor. He could still remember what Mordred had said to him, those many years ago… So then why did Mordred now seem to be seeking Merlin's company? It was all too confusing.

_Emrys…_

Merlin's eyes shot open in surprise. Had he only imagined it?

_Emrys?_

No, there it was again. Mordred was trying to speak with him. He considered answering, but realized that what he needed was time to think, alone, with no interruptions from anyone, least of all the subject of his broodings.

The whispered name was repeated several times, each one yearning for Merlin's attention. Merlin wished he could block out the whispers, but he at least managed to restrain from responding, and finally they faded away.

Relieved, Merlin returned to his thoughts, comforted by the night's silence.

* * *

A day had passed. Two days. Three, four, five, six, a whole week. Merlin and Mordred hadn't exchanged any words—verbal or nonverbal—since the night of Mordred's outburst. Merlin had thus far come to no decision on how to proceed with Mordred, and so he distanced himself for the time being, choosing to observe the potential threat from afar. To his surprise, and great chagrin, Merlin realized that he missed the younger man's company.

With a week gone by, it struck Merlin how, in their private time together, Mordred had shown Merlin a whole different side of him than the one that the knights knew. He'd already been aware of this, but it had never been so apparent as it was currently, now that he had been deprived of that interaction.

While his eyes habitually tailed Mordred's movements, Merlin often found himself feeling sad. When Mordred presented his modest smile, Merlin felt sorry for the other knights that they never saw his true smile, the one with mischief in its curves. When Mordred gave a polite chuckle, Merlin wished that they could also hear his quiet laugh, the one reminiscent of running water.

Merlin was beyond stunned at these thoughts. They made no sense! Merlin had never sought out Mordred's company for pleasure, he had done so to keep an eye on him. Simply being in the same vicinity as Camelot's youngest knight was enough to send waves of fear shooting through his veins. And yet… only now was he admitting to himself that there had been another facet to their relationship. Because despite his original intentions, Merlin had, over time, come to appreciate Mordred's person.

Hiding beneath Merlin's fear and distrust were traitorous feelings, feelings that reveled in Mordred's laugh and delighted in the twinkle in his eyes. Mordred was, in a word, alluring. So much power, so much intensity, all wrapped up in this beautiful, mysterious young druid.

* * *

Merlin sat across from his mentor at the dinner table. Gaius could tell that something was on Merlin's mind, but he chose not to pry.

"Gaius…" the younger man began hesitantly, "Do you think that… a person can change their destiny?" Gaius fixed his apprentice with a solemn look, contemplating his question.

"Destiny is a powerful force, Merlin; I'm sure I cannot tell you for certain what is possible and what is not. I _do_ know, however, that destiny is not something to be trifled with. If someone _were_ to attempt to change their destiny, to stray from the path laid before them, well… then I would tell them to be very, very cautious." Gaius raised an eyebrow and Merlin nodded, acknowledging that he had heard and understood Gaius' warning.

When Merlin didn't choose to take the conversation any further, Gaius took it upon himself to ask, rather perceptively, "This is about Mordred, isn't it?" Merlin continued to eat normally, but a flick of his eyes gave him away. Gaius released a pent-up sigh. Merlin had spent so much time of late fretting over Arthur's newest addition to the knights of Camelot, and it worried Gaius.

"Whatever it is that you're planning, Merlin, I do hope it's safe. Please consider my words very carefully."

Merlin nodded. "I will, Gaius. And thank you. For everything."

Gaius smiled appreciatively. Soon after, Merlin cleared the dishes away and retired to his bedroom, leaving Gaius alone to ponder the effects of tampering with destiny. Finding in himself a thirst for more knowledge on the subject, Gaius put on his reading glasses and began scouring his books for any that might prove fruitful.

* * *

Mordred lay uncomfortably in his bed, staring up into the darkness above. His limbs had the oddest desire to move, twitch, scratch, do _anything_ but lie still. But lie still he did. It was always useful to practice one's self-control.

Mordred had been doing that a lot lately. Merlin had now gone an entire week without speaking to him. Mordred was sadly _not_ surprised by how much the loss affected him. He detested these feelings, feelings of desire and helplessness, but there was little to be done. Merlin had managed to make himself an irreplaceable part of Mordred's life, without even bothering to ask for Mordred's consent first.

Because of this, the last week had been a peculiar kind of torment for the druid. He felt utterly alone; no one else knew him, they didn't have an inkling of who Mordred truly was.

Unlike Merlin. Merlin knew. It might seem odd that Mordred would favor the company of one who openly distrusted and disliked him, but Mordred would always greatly prefer this to the affections of those who knew nothing of him. The biting honesty of Merlin's attitude towards him was a refreshing relief. There was no reason to hide behind any pretenses.

And Merlin himself was a treat. His dry sense of humor had brightened Mordred's days, as had his goofy smile and boyish charms. As a matter of fact, Mordred even enjoyed Merlin's distrust of him in some capacity. While he didn't appreciate the feeling of being under constant surveillance, the tense relationship that Merlin had established between them had created a delightful feeling of electricity whenever the two men stood in the same room. It _excited_ Mordred, the way that his body reacted to Merlin's presence. Even if the reaction was purely out of anxiety. It felt strangely good.

But now, with Merlin keeping away, he was alone and very little held interest for him. The monotony increased with each new day, an endless cycle of training, hunting, scouting… And, of course, the same blind, jabbering fools surrounded him day after day.

He wanted Merlin back.

As if a fairy godmother had heard his wish and decided to grant it, Mordred suddenly heard a voice in his head.

_Mordred._

Mordred sat up slowly, a smile stretching across his features.

_Yes, Emrys?_

_Still awake then?_

_Obviously. Is there something you need?_ There was a pause in the flow of conversation, and Mordred's brow drew together as he wondered what could be making Merlin hesitate.

_May I come to your rooms?_ the other voice asked finally. Mordred's eyebrows went up at the request, but he assented. Merlin's voice disappeared and Mordred sat patiently waiting for the warlock to make his way.

A few minutes later the door creaked open, admitting the very person Mordred was expecting. He rose to meet his nighttime visitor.

"I'm… sorry," said Merlin immediately, skipping all greetings and pleasantries. Mordred was too taken aback by this unforeseen event to speak. "I'm sorry that I nearly turned my back and let you get caught when you were a child. I'm sorry that I have always found it difficult to trust you. And I'm sorry that I left you to isolation. I know what that kind of separation feels like, and I shouldn't have abandoned you to it, not when I had the power to do something."

"I… I don't understand," Mordred replied immediately, his features still blank with shock.

"I am the same as you. I'm alone as well, and you were right. We are all that we've got here. Just the two of us. I'm tired of being alone. It would be… nice to have someone to talk to."

"But how can you do that if you don't trust me?" asked Mordred confusedly.

"Well, everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, or at least that's what Gaius tells me," returned Merlin, a grin beginning to replace his serious expression. "And _Arthur_ warned me that looks can be deceiving. He trusts you, you know. Arthur."

Merlin watched carefully, but Mordred didn't flinch, not the smallest twinge to betray any hidden guilt. Instead he merely smiled and nodded his head.

"I should hope so, and I am glad he does. It will be a sad day when Camelot can no longer depend upon the trustworthiness of her knights."

"I agree," murmured Arthur's manservant.

"Well then…" said Mordred brightly. His lips curled into a delicate smile. "Where shall we begin?"

The two men gladly, if hesitantly, entered into a conversation and the start of a new relationship.

It did not, however, escape Merlin's notice that Mordred had not in fact accepted his apologies, just as it did not escape Mordred's notice that Merlin had not actually offered his trust.


	2. Trust and Forgiveness

_Author's Note: I'll try to post again as soon as I can, but I'm not sure when that will be. Hopefully within the next week. That's my goal. Stay tuned! __Please leave a review with any comments or critiques. Thanks to everyone who already has, or has __favorites and/or is following this story. I appreciate the support._

* * *

On the whole, Merlin's tentative acquaintance with Mordred was turning out to be a success. His imbedded distrust of the druid didn't disappear, but he was able to shove it aside for the sake of peaceful interactions. In fact, their interactions were more than peaceful: they were rather enjoyable.

* * *

"_Really_? Before you could _talk_ even?" asked Merlin in wonder. "Well… out loud, I mean, obviously."

Mordred smirked. "Of course. Telepathy has always been a particular talent of mine, even as a baby. Didn't your powers manifest themselves at a young age?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," conceded Merlin. "It was such a nuisance for my mother sometimes, though she tried to pretend it wasn't."

"How so?"

"Well I wasn't like you. Telepathy is one thing, but I had a knack for making things fly just by looking at them, or turning sparks into a fire. Nearly burned our home down once or twice. And of course the constant breaking of pots and chairs certainly wasn't easy on her." Merlin's eyes gained a wistful glaze as he spoke of his mother. "She was always supportive, though. She never made a fuss about what I'd done- _well_… not when I was young and doing it on accident. She _did_ get a bit fussy when I was older and doing risky things on purpose."

Merlin grinned cheekily, drawing a genuine smile from his companion. Mordred wouldn't have been able to help it even if he'd wanted to. There was something about Merlin's lively expressions that injected Mordred with a giddy sort of happiness.

"I remember, when I first told Will about my magic, she got so angry with me," Merlin recollected fondly, "I saw her eyes blaze and I knew I was in for it. She went on and on about how stupid I'd been, and tried to impress upon me how important it was to keep my powers a secret. Gaius tries to do the same thing, but I doubt I'll ever be as cautious as they'd like."

Merlin broke off, looking a bit startled, and focused his eyes back on Mordred.

"I'm sorry, I guess I've been rambling on a bit, haven't I," he commented with an embarrassed smile, his eyes turning sheepishly to the ground.

"No, it's… fine," assured Mordred. Merlin looked up with surprise. "I'm very interested in what you have to say. And I know how difficult it must have been for you, going all these years without someone to really talk to."

"Well… thanks," replied Merlin, the words a bit awkward. It was as if he wished to say something else but didn't know what. Mordred continued to smile politely.

Clearing his throat, Merlin said, "I should probably get going. Arthur will start to wonder where I am."

"By all means, go," agreed Mordred, gesturing kindly towards the door. Merlin paused, nodded, then made his way out of Mordred's chambers.

* * *

Arthur and Merlin were making their way down a hallway together, the latter shuffling awkwardly under the weight of an enormous stack of official documents.

"I just don't see how one diplomatic meeting could possibly use so much parchment, that's all I'm saying."

"Oh, stop your complaining, Merlin," was the King's unsympathetic reply. "Trust me, when there's a meeting between kingdoms, you don't want to leave anything to memory. If you commit everything to paper, no one can call you a liar. You can always check who's right and who's wrong if there are any disagreements later. Things get a lot less messy that way."

_Messy, like the state of your clothes… and _hair_ for that matter. Has the great Emrys never heard of a brush?_ a familiar voice teased.

Merlin was so startled that he stumbled, tripping over his own feet. Predictably, he went crashing to the ground, an enormous flurry of papers fluttering down after him. Arthur stood above him, furious.

"You _idiot_, Merlin! Those papers were in a very specific order!" he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly in his frustration. "How is it even possible for one person to be so _clumsy_?"

"Sorry, Arthur, I'll…" fumbled Merlin, scrambling to collect the papers in his arms, "Don't worry, I'll take-"

"I'll help him, Arthur," a smooth voice cut in. Merlin and Arthur both looked in surprise to see Mordred emerging from an adjacent hallway. "I was just on my way to the armory, but I don't mind delaying a bit." He knelt to the ground beside Merlin and began to assist him. Arthur turned back to his servant with a smug, condescending smile.

"See, Merlin? _That _is the way a man should behave. You should pay attention to what Mordred does; maybe you'll actually _learn_ something!"

_You have no idea… _Merlin grumbled internally, ignoring the jibes, _I _do _pay attention to Mordred in the hopes of learning something, but not about manners._

"Well I really can't afford to be late to my next meeting. I expect you to have those papers sorted out by the time I get back to my rooms," the King commanded his servant. Arthur strode away, leaving the two sorcerers behind.

"Prat," Merlin whispered to his companion immediately upon Arthur's exit, "This is _your_ _fault_." Mordred laughed, collecting yet more papers.

"I fail to see how," he disagreed lightly, purposefully ignoring the glare that Merlin was shooting his way. "Am I truly to blame for your clumsiness?"

"You _know_ it was your comment that made me fall!"

"How was I to know of your impressive lack of balance?" he shot back, eyes twinkling with delight. Mordred was once again reminded of why Merlin was his favorite part of life at the castle. This was priceless. "I only meant to make you jump. Your reaction was entirely unanticipated, I assure you. Though it _was_ rather enjoyable… Ever thought of applying for a position as court jester? Or perhaps a professional tumbler?"

"You're just jealous that I've got a talent you don't," Merlin retaliated, an amused glint overtaking his annoyed expression.

"Is that so?"

"Yep. It's a gift, being able to make other people laugh. And I'll bet that _you_ can't _juggle _either," he teased. Mordred grinned. All of the papers now in hand, the two men stood.

"Another of your many talents, Emrys?"

"One of many."

"Well. I hope you'll give me a performance sometime," the knight requested, a smile still teasing his lips.

"Ha. No," Merlin responded bluntly. "You know, perhaps _you _ought to be the court jester."

"Why not?"

"Just no."

"If you won't give me a performance then I'll have to ask Arthur to make you give one at our next feast," threatened Mordred with a perfectly straight face. Merlin made an expression of distaste.

"Let's just get these papers to Arthur's rooms. We can discuss your blackmail while I put them back in order."

"Excellent idea."

* * *

"Home…" murmured Mordred thoughtfully. Merlin's eyes never left the young man for a second. He constantly found his attention captivated by the druid man this way; there was something enticing about his mysterious nature, something mesmerizing about his look.

"I haven't called a place 'home' for a very long time," he said finally.

"Been traveling a lot?" returned Merlin.

"Well yes… and no," was the vague answer.

"And what about now?"

Mordred raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"I mean, do you consider Camelot a home?" clarified the warlock. Mordred emitted a soft 'Ah'.

"I'm not sure that I could say that," he replied simply, "It's a more stable home than I've had in a long time, but…"

"The magic thing?" Merlin guessed. Mordred chuckled lightly.

"Yes. The magic thing."

"I understand."

"And of course…" But Mordred didn't seem inclined to continue from here.

"Yes?" Merlin encouraged.

A brief and barely distinguishable expression of pain crossed the knight's face. "This is where my father was murdered."

A hush fell over them as Merlin finally understood. He hadn't forgotten about the execution, but he hadn't really bothered to think about it. His heart filled with pity for the child-Mordred, and compassion for this almost-adult-Mordred.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. Mordred nodded tersely.

"I know you did all you could for me," said Mordred, eyes locking with the other man's. Though his words were understanding, his eyes bore an unspoken accusation that flooded the room with tension.

Merlin's mind flashed immediately to a very particular memory, one that they had never addressed between them. He hadn't included this event in his list of apologies to Mordred because he felt sure that no apology would suffice and he was reluctant—verging on frightened—to even mention the affair.

_Mordred was getting away. Of all the druids, Mordred was the one managing an escape, the one druid that Merlin most wanted to be stopped._

_Merlin stepped forward; his eyes flashed gold. A branch extended, tripping the young druid boy. Merlin watched as he fell, rose, and faced two Camelot knights._

_He watched the two knights fall, spears protruding from their stomachs. Merlin felt his heart stop cold with fear as Mordred's eyes lifted to meet his._

I shall never forgive this, Emrys,_ he said. _And I shall never forget.

_The threat echoed inside his head. Merlin watched the boy run off into the forest, and this time, he did nothing to stop him._

Looking into Mordred's eyes, Merlin did not need to ask if he was thinking of the same memory: he simply knew.

The unspoken truth of their past had never seemed so real to the men before. The relaxed atmosphere they had managed to create between them vanished instantly, a more familiar air of hostility taking its place.

Sparing no breath for words, Merlin quickly made his way to the door, a gaze as cold as a snow-capped mountain piercing into his back until the door closed behind him.

* * *

"Alright. Tell me what's going on."

Merlin blinked his thoughts away and adopted a face of complete innocence, placing the tray of food on the table in front of Arthur. "I don't know what you mean."

"Clearly something is bothering you."

"No, nothing," Merlin disagreed, forcing a smile. Arthur could not have looked any less believing as he took a bite of his chicken.

"Don't lie to me, Merlin, you really are no good at it," he said mockingly, his mouth still full of food.

"I don't know what's giving you the impression that there's something wrong, but there isn't," Merlin insisted.

"There isn't? Then tell me, why is it that, until recently, you and Sir Mordred seemed to be on perfectly good terms, and now you're both trying to act like the other doesn't even exist?" asked the King accusatorily. "And you've clearly been moping about whatever it is; you haven't shown this little attention to your duties in years."

Once again, the depth of Arthur's perceptions floored Merlin. How did he keep noticing these things? Observational skills had never been one of the King's strong suits, _especially_ when it came to Merlin. Even though he could usually tell when Merlin was in a mood, he was rarely this accurate in pinpointing its cause.

"Honestly, I can feel the tension between the two of you myself, no matter how hard you seem to be trying to hide it. I swear, one day I actually _felt the temperature drop_ when you both entered into the same room!"

Merlin flinched. Now _that_ was just unfair. He'd only made the room colder _once_, and it had been a complete accident!

"Listen. You don't have to tell me, whatever it is. Just… _do_ something about it. I hate to see you like this," admitted Arthur reluctantly. Surprised, a quirky grin pulled at Merlin's lips.

"Are you actually _concerned_ about me?" he teased gleefully as Arthur took a sip of his wine. The King raised an amused eyebrow.

"About _you_, Merlin?Don't get your hopes up," Arthur returned with a characteristic smirk. "You're painfully pathetic at all your chores as it is; the only thing you've got in your favor is that, despite your _astounding_ lack of common sense, you usually aren't_ that_ dull. And if you're _going_ to be, I may as well replace you."

Merlin tried to restrain his grin, but couldn't. He felt truly touched—and amused—by Arthur's concern.

"I'll sort it out, Arthur," he promised his friend gratefully. "Thanks." Arthur nodded, granting him a soft, sincere smile in return.

"You're welcome, Merlin."

* * *

Merlin couldn't help it. His eyes were glued to Mordred's figure for the entirety of the following day, every second that the druid was nearby. There was a strange mixture of fear and longing inside of him. He found himself missing the odd friendship of sorts that they had been building, but he also could not forget the reason for their estrangement: a history filled with distrust and deceit. How could they ever come together if they couldn't trust one another?

_I have to find a way to try,_ the warlock resolved, _I made a promise to Arthur._

When midafternoon rolled around, it found the knights training on the grounds. Merlin did not watch the practice bouts as he usually would. His eyes remained fixed on Mordred—who was engaged in conversation with Sir Leon—waiting for the right opportunity.

It came when Sir Leon strolled off to engage Sir Percival in a round of club dueling (the practice of all weaponry was encouraged), leaving Mordred on his own.

_Mordred._ He saw the knight visibly stiffen, but only for a moment.

_Emrys, _the voice answered, its owner not bothering to look towards the other man. His eyes stayed innocently on the fight in front of him.

_We need to talk._

_I was under the odd impression that we were doing just that_.

Merlin was caught been a scowl and a chuckle. _In private, I mean. And preferably out loud._

_If you wish, _Mordred replied, his tone annoyingly disinterested.

_I'll just come by your rooms this evening then, shall I?_

Merlin took Mordred's silence as assent.

* * *

"So you wished to speak with me?" began the younger man, venom in his look if not his voice.

"Arthur, he… noticed that something was going on with me- with _us_," Merlin amended quickly, shutting the door behind him. "He told me to fix it. So here I am."

"A noble thought," murmured Mordred. "Then of course, Arthur is a noble man. If a bit naïve. Does he truly think that you can fix anything if he simply asks you to? He gives you too much credit, I think."

"Look, I came here to give us another shot," Merlin snapped. "You know, _you_ were the one who wanted something between us in the first place! If you meant any of what you said, you might want to consider putting in a little effort yourself."

Mordred's expression did not shift, but he remained quiet this time. The utter blankness that stared at Merlin through Mordred's eyes unnerved him a great deal.

"Well?" he pressed finally. "Will you at least try?"

Mordred didn't move at all, treating Merlin to silence once again. On the inside, his mind was whirling. He was not ready to forgive Merlin or to pretend nothing was wrong, and as long as their issues remained evident but unaddressed, there was no hope. Perhaps the best course of action, then, was to address those issues. But how bold could he dare to be? How blunt?

Very carefully, Mordred formed his next words.

"It's ironic… it is Arthur who hates magic, not you, and yet he has always protected my life when it is you who have always wanted me dead."

"I never wanted that," Merlin disagreed sharply.

"Oh? Then why is it that you nearly allowed me to be executed? Why is it that you attempted to stop me from escaping the attack on Alvarr's camp, an act which would also ensure my death?" accused Mordred delicately.

"You don't understand. It's because…"

"_Well_?"

The young knight's tone incited Merlin's temper. He exclaimed, "I saw that you were dangerous! I _felt_ it! Arthur may never be able to see it, but I _do_."

"Well of course I'm dangerous," Mordred replied, almost calmly. "As are you, Emrys. As is every being who engages in the art of sorcery. Magic may be used for good or evil, but it is _always_ dangerous. But you are just as powerful as me, and just as dangerous."

"No, I mean…" Merlin struggled for words. What could he say? "I saw you blow four men off their feet just by screaming. I saw you impale two men with spears without batting an eye!"

"They would have killed me. Would you have preferred _that_?"

"Yes! No! I mean-"

"And there it is. Finally the truth," stated the druid, smiling softly. "The condemnation from your own lips. For reasons you choose not to share, you wish me dead, Emrys."

"I _just_ want to protect _Arthur_. _That's all._"

"And what do I have to do with _that_?" he demanded.

Merlin gritted his teeth. He wasn't certain how much Mordred knew of his own destiny, and he wasn't inclined to give him any new information on the subject. He had no choice but to say nothing. He chose another attack instead.

"Don't forget, you would be dead if not for me."

"I'd also be dead if you had gotten your way. I don't believe I owe you much of anything," was the dry response.

"If not for your own life, then what about for Arthur's?" said Merlin fiercely.

Mordred shot him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I've saved Arthur's life hundreds of times. Arthur, the King that you claim to love and serve. Even if you owe me nothing for your own life, you owe me a great deal of gratitude on _that_ account."

Mordred paused, considering these words. After a brief moment, he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "As does all of Camelot. You should be laden with honors for your service to the King, truly, and as I am one of the few people who know that, I offer you that gratitude. It does not, however, make up for your betrayals towards _me_."

"And what about _you_, then? What about you and your men who captured Arthur and I and intended to put us directly into the hands of Morgana?" Merlin pointed out.

"I let you escape!" Mordred retaliated.

"We escaped on our own!" cried Merlin indignantly.

"_Because I let you_!" The two men paused, inhaling slowly, restraining their tempers. Soon Mordred continued, "And then, if you recall, I protected Arthur from Morgana's blade shortly thereafter. You are not the only one to have saved the King's life; merely the only one not to have been knighted for it."

"I don't _care_ about the _title_," Merlin growled through gritted teeth. Mordred's eyes took on a deadly light, his lips twisted into the smallest of cruel smiles.

"You care about the _meaning_ of it," he said softly, taunting the manservant. "You care because it means that Arthur _knows_ what I've done for him. And he'll never know what you've done."

"One day he will," was the firm reply.

Mordred smirked. "That is, of course, assuming that Arthur lives to the day that you finally find the courage to tell him."

Merlin's blood pounded in his ears—his instincts screamed for him to eradicate this man from the face of the earth—but he controlled himself.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked stiffly. The knight had the nerve to chuckle.

"Relax, Emrys. It wasn't a threat. I only meant that the occupation of King is a dangerous one, and you are not the most courageous of men in this matter, so there is no guarantee that your courage will surface before a foe vanquishes him."

"Surely with you by his side, no harm will come to him," suggested Merlin with a good deal of sarcasm. Mordred's jaw clenched, all amusement gone from his face.

"There is no number of knights that would be sufficient to perfectly defend his Highness. Any force is beatable, especially when Morgana is their enemy."

"And when that time comes," intoned Merlin softly, "whose side will you be on, Mordred?"

"I chose Arthur once. I will choose Arthur again. So long as Morgana stays on the path she is on now, I will always choose Arthur," answered the druid man. "I told you, Emrys, she has forgotten that love is more important than any power."

Merlin's voice was strained as he asked, "How am I ever supposed to trust you?"

"A better question is, why are you so inclined _not_ to?"

"I have my reasons," he replied abruptly. Mordred wasn't content with this answer.

"Indulge me."

"…There is something in you, Mordred. A darkness. I fear what you may do with it," Merlin finally revealed, solemnity creasing his brow.

"What gives you the right to say that about me?" the younger man demanded.

"It's been obvious from the very first time we met! When you were still just a child, your anger channeled itself into a burst of magic that _shattered_ a mirror. I knew then that you were more dangerous than you looked. Having that sort of raw power tied into your emotions was a sure sign of trouble. Then the next time our paths crossed, your scream alone took down four Camelot knights; and the time after _that,_ you callously _murdered_ two knights. Any child that has it in them to do such a thing without a flicker of remorse is not a force for goodness, and when they wield the amount of power that you do, they become a clear threat."

"You know that those knights would have killed me," hissed Mordred.

"Yes, but you woefully outmatched them! There was no need for their deaths."

"You don't think I'm justified in killing those who would do so to me?" asked Mordred incredulously. "If any person makes the decision to take my life, I believe I have the right to do whatever I wish to them."

"You could just as easily have knocked them unconscious. You _chose_ to kill them," accused Merlin. "Then add onto all this the fact of your long-standing bond with Morgana-"

"I _stabbed_ her for Arthur's sake! You cannot use Morgana as evidence against me. You were once just as close to her as I ever was."

This forced Merlin to halt. Mordred did have a point. Was it fair to condemn Mordred for a relationship he had formed while still only a child, particularly when Merlin had done the same thing at an older age? Both of them had broken all ties to the witch, betrayed her in the end.

But even if he wanted to give Mordred the benefit of the doubt, there was still the Great Dragon's foretelling of an evil alliance between Morgana and Mordred. And there was also the vision the druid seer had given him, showing Mordred dealing Arthur a fatal blow.

But then, hadn't his original intent in befriending Mordred been to change that future? Hadn't he gone into the relationship knowing all this, but having decided to take the opportunity to try and change Mordred? Additionally, the only reason he was currently speaking to Mordred was because Arthur wanted him to _reconcile_ with the man. Further quarrelling was a sure path to failing Arthur.

Why then was he arguing with Mordred over his lack of trustworthiness? This was pointless, and worse, hurting his chances of getting close enough to the young knight to change his destiny for the better.

_Stupid_, he berated himself, _Stupid stupid stupid. Stop letting your emotions rule your head! Fix this!_

"You're right." The stunted words broke through the suspended quiet. Mordred's eyebrows slowly rose; he was skeptical of this new development, to say the least. "You're right, I shouldn't… shouldn't be so quick to judge. You did prove yourself with Morgana."

"…I'm not sure I believe you."

"I know. I know I certainly haven't given you much reason to trust me either, but I mean it." Merlin was a little surprised to realize that he honestly did mean it. Interesting. "I… miss you. After being able to talk with you, the way I can't with anyone else… well I can't just go back. I need someone to be there, someone who understands me. Like you do. I think we can return to that."

"We'll end up right back here again. It certainly didn't take very long for this to happen the first time, and history will inevitably repeat itself," objected Mordred. Merlin shook his head.

"It doesn't have to. We can make a promise, now, to put the past behind us. I'll let go of any distrust, and you'll forgive me for the mistakes I've made. We'll start over."

"Start over…" repeated Mordred quietly, gazing off into the air. He turned back to Merlin, and saw the honesty in his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, he nodded. "Alright, Emrys. I accept your deal. I promise to forgive your past wrongs."

"And I promise to treat you without any prior bias clouding my judgment. Does that work?"

Mordred nodded again, saying, "Yes, it does."

Merlin nodded a few times without really thinking about it, trying to find the next words to say.

"Right, well. Good. Glad we got it sorted out."

"As am I, Emrys," returned Mordred, a guarded smile on his face.

"I think I'll… go now. Come back another time."

"That would probably be for the best."

Merlin nodded one last time, paused, then made his way across the room and opened the door. He stopped on the threshold.

"Goodnight, Mordred," he said, testing the words out on his tongue.

"Goodnight, Emrys."


	3. Just Friends

_Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone following this story! Please drop a review with comments and critiques to let me know what you think of this third installment. (Warning: This story will contain spoilers for Season 5 as the episodes continue to come out. For instance, this chapter contains spoilers for S5E3)._

* * *

Merlin had prepared himself for an adjustment period, a length of time—a few days, a few _weeks_ maybe—in which he and Mordred would struggle to adapt to their "starting over" agreement.

He was pleasantly surprised to discover that there _was_ none. No awkwardness ensued after their conversation. They were as agreeable with one another as they'd ever been: more so, in fact. It was as if they had both craved this unconstrained relationship so desperately that now, after the agreement, they immediately began to act as they'd wanted to act all along.

When the two sorcerers passed each other in the hallway, they shared a friendly smile and occasionally a greeting (usually nonverbal). When Merlin helped Mordred remove his uniform after an event, they felt free to jest with one another, and better yet, free to laugh with bright unrestraint whenever they wished.

They became increasingly closer, and soon Merlin was finding other excuses to meander his way into Mordred's chambers. He enjoyed Mordred's company immensely, more than he'd ever expected to, and perhaps even as much as he enjoyed Arthur's. Mordred, though not as close a friend as the King, knew a side of Merlin that Arthur did not, and the value of that kind of companion was immeasurable. Mordred gave him someone to confide in, someone to have fun with…

Mordred had become an irreplaceable friend. Facing that truth was both overwhelming and uplifting to the young warlock.

If, a few months back, Gaius had told Merlin that one day he would be joking with Mordred about Gwaine's hair, Arthur's attitude, and Percival's sleeveless chainmail, Merlin would have been as quick to suspect the influence of sorcery (on Gaius' mind) as Uther had ever been. And yet here he was now, doing all those things and more.

And he was happier for it.

* * *

The tournament had just ended and, as was always the case, Arthur had come out the victor, though both Sir Gwaine and—surprisingly to Camelot—Sir Mordred had put up a very decent fight against His Majesty.

Merlin was in Arthur's tent, offering his sincere congratulations whilst helping to remove the King's breastplate and other armor.

"Merlin," said Arthur suddenly, "You can go now, I'll take it from here."

"Don't worry," returned Merlin brightly, "I'm almost done."

"_Mer_lin," stressed Arthur in a low voice. Confused, his manservant turned his attention from the gauntlet to Arthur's eyes. He was, none too subtly, gesturing for Merlin to look behind him.

Look behind him he did, and he was met with the sight of Gwen, grinning kindly.

"Ah," said Merlin dumbly.

"_Get. Out_."

"Uh, right! Ok then, I'll just… go. Good job judging the tournament, Gwen, you were fantastic as always-"

"_Merlin_!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going…" Merlin brushed past Gwen, giving her a quirky smile as he made his way out of the tent.

Squinting up into the sunlight, Merlin wondered what he should do now that Arthur had temporarily discharged him from his duties. He didn't particularly fancy just standing outside the tent until Arthur and Gwen emerged. The very _thought_ was uncomfortable.

Looking around him, Merlin observed the rest of the tents, each one belonging to a different knight of Camelot who had entered himself into the tournament. There was Elyan's, Leon's, Percival's, Gwaine's, and… Mordred's. His eyes rested there as the possibility flickered across his thoughts.

Well, why not?

Trudging across the grass, Merlin quickly made his way to Mordred's tent. He paused just outside the cloth construct, wondering if he should announce his presence first or just walk in.

Good manners won out. He shut his eyes, tight. It was harder for him to concentrate on speaking telepathically to Mordred when the younger man wasn't actually in his line of sight.

_Mordred? Can I come in? _he asked.

He heard a bit of rustling inside the tent—_Like paper_, he thought—as Mordred answered quietly, "Of course."

Merlin pushed through the flap and saw Mordred standing in front of his mirror, but facing Merlin, still fully dressed in his armor. Merlin shot the knight an amused look.

"Honestly? You haven't even _started_ to get changed? What have you been _doing _in here?"

"I thought it was your job to say, 'Let me help you with that', not reproach me," answered Mordred with a small smile. Merlin made a face.

"Fine. Let me help you with that. Is that better?"

"Well now you actually have to _help_ me with it," the knight pointed out.

Merlin stepped forward until he stood just in front of Mordred. Assisting him out of his breastplate, Merlin said, "Of course. Wouldn't dream of doing anything else. In fact, are you even capable of getting undressed without me?" Mordred smirked.

"Perfectly capable. It does, however, seem easier when you're around."

The two men fell into silence as Merlin continued to help Mordred out of his armor. After a bit, Merlin spoke again.

"You fought really well today," he praised sincerely. "No one was expecting you to be that good. Because of your age, I mean."

"I should have done better."

Merlin grinned, shaking his head at his friend. "Come on, learn to take a compliment. You've massively improved since coming to Camelot! You ought to give yourself some credit." Mordred seemed startled. As his expression cleared, a soft, tentative smile blossomed on his lips.

"Thank you."

"That's better. Though, now that I think about it, I must be stupid to encourage you to get a big head. I deal with enough of that in Arthur."

Mordred laughed at Merlin's sass.

"I'll do my best not to become too much like Arthur. I'm not sure the world could handle two of him."

Now it was Merlin's turn to laugh. "No, I doubt it could. And _I_ most _definitely _couldn't. One is enough. I don't think I could manage protecting _two_ royal asses."

"And what would the King say if he heard you referring to him in such a way?" asked Mordred teasingly, very amused by Merlin's statements.

"Well… if I remember correctly… the _first_ time I called him that he said that I was an idiot, but a brave one."

A grin stretched across the knight's face. "You truly called him that?"

"A royal ass. First time we met," confirmed the older man, "Or, well, the second time, I guess. I didn't exactly know who he _was_ the first time."

"It somehow doesn't surprise me at all to learn that you would both unknowingly and knowingly call the Prince of Camelot an ass. I've certainly seen enough evidence before now to confirm your lack of survival instincts. Here is just one more example."

Merlin chuckled, but defended himself, saying, "Hey, he needed to be taught a lesson!"

"And did he learn it?"

"…Over time."

"Then I suppose your perilous insults are justified."

Merlin was fully prepared with a witty retort, but the thought completely vanished from his mind when he turned around from setting aside the last of Mordred's armor. While Merlin had had his back turned, Mordred had stripped off his shirt, and was now wiping off his sweat with a towel.

Merlin flushed a bit, and found himself speechless.

"What's wrong with _you_?"

Merlin forced his eyes up from Mordred's pale, lightly muscled chest, which was glistening with hard-earned beads of sweat.

"What?" the manservant said dumbly, trying to ignore his thumping heart. Why did he feel so nervous all of a sudden?_ This is absurd, snap out of it, Merlin! _he scolded himself impatiently.

"What, have you never seen a man with his shirt off before?" the knight asked mockingly.

Merlin scoffed, the offense breaking through his momentary lapse of clear thought. "Um, _no_, I've seen plenty of half-naked men before, thanks. …No, wait… I mean- That's… That came out wrong."

"Oh no no, I think it came out perfectly."

"Now hold on," objected Merlin fervently, "I didn't mean-"

"I'm sure all you meant is that your male friends tend to get injured and you let them rest and heal in your bed, with their shirts off to maximize healing and comfort. Right, Emrys?" asked Mordred innocently.

"I- No! I mean… well yes, actually, but why do you have to say it like that?" Merlin whined unhappily. "You're implying something."

"I'm implying nothing. Just observing."

Merlin shot him a cautious, skeptical look. "And what is it that you think you're observing?"

"Only that you are not as innocent as you seem," smirked the druid man.

"I'm _every_ bit as innocent as I seem! Wait- no I mean… Not that I don't have any experience with anything, or, I mean… Don't assume that-" Merlin cut off his own stuttering. His mouth was halfway between a smile and a grimace. He sighed. "…You know what? Never mind. I give up."

"Must you? I dearly enjoy watching you flounder."

"Yes, well, as fun as that is, I should probably get back to Arthur," said Merlin. "Knowing him, he'll forget that he dismissed me and then complain that I was gone."

Mordred gave him a smile that looked deceptively sweet and innocent.

"Of course," he agreed simply. Merlin awkwardly nodded his head, and quickly made his way out of the young knight's tent and back into the sunlight.

* * *

Mordred let his eyes slide up from the table to a certain servant, who was standing predictably in the same spot as always. Merlin's attention was focused on a different man: to be specific, the King. There was a slight crease in Merlin's brow, telling Mordred that the warlock was thinking hard about something.

_What's wrong?_ he asked telepathically. Merlin's eyes flashed round to his.

_What do you mean?_

_You're staring pensively at Arthur, _he explained. _You do that quite a lot. You might want to think about stopping, or people might get the wrong idea._

_Like wha-_ Merlin cut himself off as his thoughts caught up to Mordred's._ Oh, please, _no_. Just don't._

The knight smothered a smirk. _Are you telling me that you feel nothing for the King?_

_Arthur is the most… prattish, royal dollophead alive. So yes, that's _exactly_ what I'm telling you. And why would _you_ care anyways?_ asked Merlin teasingly.

_Ah, now don't think you can distract me so easily. You haven't answered my question._

_And what was that again? _asked Merlin innocently.

_Don't be cute about it. _Was it just Mordred's imagination flaring up or did Merlin's ears really turn pink? _What's on your mind?_

_It's nothing_, said Merlin simply.

Merlin expected Mordred to get annoyed if anything. He was not, therefore, prepared for the quiet sadness that entered the young man's eyes. Merlin felt his gut twist at the sight. Why did it bother him so much? Was he just so unused to seeing anything resembling vulnerability in Mordred's countenance? Yes, that must be it. He was only used to picturing Mordred as a strong, closed-off individual. This sadness was entirely contrary to the image he had built up of the druid boy in his mind.

_You can trust me, Emrys. With anything, _thought Mordred, his presence in Merlin's mind quieter than usual. Staring into his friend's eyes, Merlin found himself wanting more than anything to unburden himself to the one person who could possibly understand. And there that person was. Waiting. _Asking_.

_Arthur's bane. I know what it is, _he finally revealed.

_How?_

_The Diamair. I found it, and it told me._

_Then what is it?_

Merlin hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. What harm could it do? The answer wasn't Mordred, after all.

_It's himself. Arthur's bane is himself. But how can that be true? What does it mean? I was _also_ told that Arthur's bane stalks him like a ghost in the night. How can he be stalking _himself_, I just don't… _Merlin's thoughts drifted off in desperation.

_Don't worry yourself sick over it,_ Mordred advised calmly. _Mysteries always unravel in the end. But if you spend all day and night thinking only of this, you will wear yourself down to nothing, and you will be no good to Arthur that way._

_But I'm supposed to _protect_ Arthur! How can I protect him from himself?_ pleaded the manservant.

Merlin knew that his face was revealing far too much of his helplessness and despair, but he couldn't bring himself to hide his emotions. It was so freeing, finally telling someone about the Diamair's parting gift of knowledge. A part of Merlin's brain wished that he and Mordred were discussing the matter in private, so that he could be physically closer to him, for comfort's sake. But that was silly. Why should he want Mordred to comfort him with anything more than words?

_I don't know, _answered Mordred, returning Merlin's attention to the question he had asked. _I wish I did, so that I could tell you… if only to wipe that frown from your face._

There was no way Mordred's mind was playing tricks _this _time. Merlin's cheeks had _definitely _reddened.

_What?_ the druid man asked innocently. _Can't I be concerned about a friend?_

_Of course! I didn't- I mean-_ Merlin's thoughts stuttered.

_I'd tell you to stop being cute again, but I don't mind it so much this time_, murmured Mordred, his voice level and face perfectly relaxed. Merlin flushed even brighter, and the younger man struggled to restrain a laugh and maintain his careless facade. Flirting with Merlin was all too rewarding.

Strange though… When he'd first started flirting with the warlock, he'd only done it with the intent to throw Merlin a bit off-kilter, but he'd since discovered that it was more fun than he'd expected. Every time Merlin colored or stuttered in embarrassment, Mordred felt the oddest sensation in his stomach. If he were forced to describe it, he would say it felt as though tiny faeries were performing little dances inside of him. It was a strange and new feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

Before Mordred could ponder more on what these feelings meant, one Sir Gwaine interrupted him by slinging an arm about his shoulders and shaking him a bit.

"By all the Gods, how long can this lovers' gaze continue?" cried the inebriated knight. "If you don't look away from Merlin and drink some wine with me this instant, I shall be forced to perform love ballads for the two of you!"

As Mordred and Merlin quickly looked apart, the other knights roared with laughter and wolf whistles echoed throughout the hall. Even Gwen couldn't quite hold back an amused grin, though she looked apologetic.

Gritting his teeth, Merlin stared so intensely into the wall that he wouldn't have been surprised had the stones exploded into dust. Mordred, for his part, was momentarily surprised, but conquered his embarrassment and presented a shy smile and a flimsy excuse about a staring contest. Luckily the other knights were all willing to accept this explanation (his opinion of their general stupidity only increased with this), and Gwaine assured him that he'd only been joking.

Merlin's heart calmed down a _bit_ when he heard this, but he made absolutely sure not to speak another silent word to Mordred the whole night. Still, the irony of Mordred's warning about being caught staring at _Arthur_ did not go unnoticed.

* * *

The Knights of the Round Table struggled to keep themselves attentive. Even Merlin felt his mind hazing over a bit as Sir Leon read out the necessary, but uninteresting, information.

"Fifteen at Talon, ten at Chime…"

_Ten hours of my life being wasted in this meeting…_ Mordred imitated in boredom. Merlin held back a smile. It was an exaggeration, but it felt amusingly accurate all the same.

"…nine at Brume…"

_Nine much better uses of my time_… the knight continued mockingly, his words echoing on top of Sir Leon's. This time Merlin had to stifle a laugh.

Suddenly, the two sets of great wooden double-doors burst open with a loud bang. The knights all jumped in their chairs, some whipping around to look at the noise. Nothing was to be seen except the doors still moving slightly.

_What was that?_ asked Mordred hesitantly.

_No idea…_ came the response from behind him.

Mordred slowly turned back to the King, as did all the others, and Sir Leon was granted permission to continue. No one was being inattentive anymore. Even Sir Leon glanced around first with a bit of apprehension.

"Eleven at Bowell…"

A great crash resounded as the candelabra fell from the ceiling and landed directly in the center of the table. Everyone jolted again, and some even gasped in shock, but no one spoke a word.

_This _has_ to be magic_, Mordred projected calmly into Merlin's head as he looked upwards at where the candelabra had fallen from. _But why? Who?_

_I don't know_, the warlock replied. The guarded tone gave Mordred the distinct impression that Merlin knew more than he was letting on, but he let it slide when he glimpsed Merlin's wide-eyed expression.

_Not scared I hope, Emrys_, the druid said. Merlin clenched his jaw in the absence of being able to make any other faces at the young man.

_No, I just… wasn't expecting that. I wish Arthur would _do_ something about it, but he doesn't seem inclined in that direction_.

_What would you suggest he do?_ Mordred pointed out.

_I don't know! He could at least adjourn the meeting until he figures out what's going on, for everyone's safety. I never thought I'd wish Arthur were in _any way_ more like his father, but at least by now Uther would have accused sorcery of being involved._

_Yes, and then he would have executed everyone ever suspected of associating with sorcerers at all_, said the knight dryly. _I think I prefer Arthur's way of doing things._

_No, I know,_ agreed Merlin with what sounded like a mental sigh. _Trust me, the last thing I want is to have Uther back._

* * *

"Leave me," intoned an irritated King. Merlin stood his ground stubbornly, his pulse pounding, his eyes fixed on Arthur. If only he knew what words to say to convince Arthur that his father's ghost had returned and was wreaking havoc. First the doors and candelabra, and now _Percival _being _attacked_! Why couldn't Arthur just _listen_ to Merlin for once?

Arthur's features grew cold as his servant made no move to leave.

"_Go_."

Barely managing to control his temper, Merlin slowly made his way to the door of Arthur's chamber, glancing back one last time at his friend. Slipping through the doorway, he stood motionless in the hallway, muscles tense and anger burning inside.

Without ever really making a conscious decision, Merlin's feet swiftly carried him off down the hall, in a direction he had traveled many times.

* * *

Mordred leapt up from his chair as his door slammed open and then slammed shut again behind a fuming warlock.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately, his dinner forgotten. Merlin paced anxiously in front of him, face contorted into an unusual look of pure frustration. "Does this have to do with what happened at the council meeting today, or is it just Arthur?"

Merlin gave a barking laugh, and abruptly replied, "Both."

"Tell me," encouraged Mordred gently, "You and I both know that the doors and the candelabra were no accidents. So what does the King have to say about it?"

"It was more than just someone with magic playing pranks," explained Merlin shortly, ceasing his frantic movement. "It's a ghost. Uther's ghost. And Arthur _won't listen_. When I tried to reason with him, he ordered me get out of his chambers. I _hate _when he treats me like I'm nothing more than his servant. I know I'm more than that, I _know _I am, but when he- I just can't believe, after all the time we've known each other, that he's still too stubborn to listen to me, to just _accept_ the fact that I may actually know what I'm talking about! No, instead he just has to throw a royal _tantrum_ and stay willfully ignorant of something that is painfully obvious."

"Uther's ghost?" repeated Mordred, admittedly a bit stunned. "How did-"

"There was a woman," interrupted Merlin, "a uh… a sorceress. Her village wanted to burn her alive, but Arthur saved her. And of course she just _had_ to have a horn that can call spirits from the other world, which she gave to him.

"So what does Arthur do? Does he do the _sensible_ thing and lock the horn away in the deepest vaults of Camelot? _No_! He takes the horn, visits with his dead father, and then accidentally releases said father's ghost into this world. And of course is now refusing to accept that that's what happened."

"Are you sure that it _is_ what happened?"

"_Yes_."

"Alright. I believe you, Emrys. Everything will be alright, I promise you," assured Mordred calmly. He approached the still tense warlock and grasped his arm lightly. "There are ways to return spirits to their world. You only need to find one such way, and the troubles will end."

Merlin slumped a bit, the anger seeping out of his body. Now he seemed only dejected. "But even if Uther is returned to where he belongs, it doesn't change the fact that in some ways, Arthur still treats me as he did ten years ago. He's my best friend, but… he doesn't even trust me. And he _never_ listens.

"You were right, Mordred. It hurts." Merlin shook his head absentmindedly, his eyes glazing over.

"I know," was the soft reply, "I'm sorry."

Taking one step closer, Mordred wrapped his arms around Merlin, pulling him into a firm hug. Merlin's heart jumped for the second time that day, but this time not out of fear.

The embrace felt tenderer than the friendly hugs that Gwaine (and even Arthur, on rare occasion) would bestow upon him, but as Merlin hesitantly placed his arms around Mordred in return, he thought that he didn't mind that. He allowed his chin to rest on the younger man's shoulder.

Suddenly, Merlin pulled back from his friend with a quizzical expression on his face. He cocked his head to the side.

"Did you hear that?" he asked Mordred quietly. Mordred shook his head confusedly.

"What did you hear?" he asked.

"I don't know…" replied Merlin slowly, "It's probably nothing, but I think I'd better go check, make sure everything's ok. Can't be too careful when there's a vengeful ghost on the loose."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Mordred agreed. "Just know, Emrys, that I'm glad you came to me. I hope you know that you can _always _come to me."

A slow smile grew on Merlin's cheeks. "Yeah. I do know. Thanks."

"My pleasure."

"And, of course, well…" said Merlin just a tad awkwardly. "Anytime you need to, or just want to, I… well I'm always around."

Despite the awkward delivery of the promise, Merlin's offer of requited friendship warmed Mordred's heart. He'd been hoping very much that Merlin would feel that way. Probably the last time he'd felt so loved and appreciated was with Morgana. It was nice to have the feeling back.

"Thank you, Emrys."

Merlin nodded, and with one last goofy grin, he was out the door to begin his investigations.

* * *

It was very late that night, and Mordred was just beginning to fade into unconsciousness. He'd been kept up by thoughts of Uther's ghost and wondering if Merlin had found anything after all. But finally, he was drifting off.

_Mordred…_ the voice sounded tired. Mordred blinked himself awake and made a great effort to sit up, even as he yawned. _Can I come by your rooms?_

_Of course, _he returned. Shoving aside his covers, Mordred tried to make himself look presentable, as if he hadn't just been on the brink of sleep.

The door creaked open a few minutes later, and Merlin found the younger man pouring them both glasses of water. He gratefully accepted his and followed suit when Mordred sat on his bed.

"I just wanted to tell you," the warlock said, "that it's over." Mordred nodded understandingly.

"So. Uther is back where he belongs."

"Yeah, and not a moment too soon. When Arthur blew the horn, he was just about to tell Arthur about me. About my magic."

Mordred's eyes flashed with new understanding. "He found out… That explains why you look so downtrodden."

"I didn't have a choice," said Merlin insistently. "He was going to kill Arthur. And he'd already tried to kill Percival and Gwen. When I left earlier, I found Gwen trapped in the kitchens as they burned."

"Is the Queen alright?" checked the knight.

"She'll be fine. Gaius says she inhaled too much smoke into her lungs, but with some rest, she'll get better. He's keeping her in my room for tonight, just to be on the safe side."

"Then… where are _you_ sleeping?" Mordred inquired.

"Oh I'll just be on the floor, near Gaius. Lay down some blankets and such. I'm used to it. We've needed to keep patients overnight before."

"That can't be comfortable."

Merlin laughed. "No, not really, but it's not a big deal. I grew up sleeping on floors and I sleep on the ground often enough when Arthur and I have to camp out somewhere for whatever reason."

"Still… why don't you stay _here_ tonight?"

Merlin's head snapped towards Mordred with shock.

"What?"

"Emrys, my bed is twice the size of yours, so we'll easily both fit. And I'm sure it's more comfortable than the floor. After what you've just been through, you need a comfortable night's sleep."

"But that, I mean… that wouldn't be…"

"What, appropriate?" suggested Mordred, vaguely amused. "Who's to know? I doubt anyone would care even if they did; it's a perfectly sensible solution to your problem."

"I… well are you… are you really sure you don't mind?" asked Merlin with a surprised grin.

"Not at all," he assured smoothly. "And you look even more tired than I feel, so it might do you good to get some rest now."

"Yeah… Alright," Merlin agreed. The two men stood up. Mordred took both glasses and set them down on the table. He then walked around to the other side of the bed and quickly slipped under the covers- he was still feeling very tired after all.

"Do you want me to put out the candle?" asked Merlin, still standing.

"I've got it," Mordred reassured him. From his spot lying down, Mordred blew outward as if the candle was just in front of him, and though the candle was on the other side of the room, it flickered out. Merlin rolled his eyes, grinning.

"Show off," he mumbled, getting under the covers on his side.

"Yes, because that was such an _impressive_ display of magic," was the dry response. Merlin chuckled.

"Alright, fine. Just lazy then."

"That's more accurate."

The two sorcerers fell silent, their soft breathing the only sounds in the dark room. Both were tired, but their minds raced with thoughts. Merlin especially could not stop himself from thinking of the horn, and its powers. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to discuss it.

"Mordred…" he whispered. A quiet 'mmm' told him that the druid was still awake. "If you could talk to someone who was dead, even if it was just for a few minutes… who would it be?"

"My father," Mordred answered without hesitation.

"Why?"

"I never got to tell him thank you, for giving up his life to save mine. And I'd want to tell him that I love him, and that I miss him. I've lost others in my lifetime, but no one that I cared about as much as my father."

"I understand."

"Who would you choose to see, Emrys?" he asked in return. Mordred found himself very curious for the answer. There was a pause.

"I don't know," Merlin said quietly, sounding distressed. "I can certainly think of more than one person that I… that I wish I'd had more time with. There are so many things I could say…"

"What is it that you want to say? To whom?"

"I… Will. My best friend all those years growing up in Ealdor. He died… for Arthur. For me. I should have… should have saved him, I shouldn't have let him die. I want to tell him that I'm sorry, that he'll always be important to me, that… I miss him."

"Who else?"

"Lancelot."

"One of Arthur's first Knights of the Round Table," stated Mordred, having heard tales of brave Sir Lancelot and his pure heart.

"Yeah. He was one of my closest friends before he died. He sacrificed himself, just like Will did. He did it for me, for Arthur… for all of Camelot. He was one of the best men I've ever known. And… he knew about me. No one else did, but he knew. I just wish I could see him again. Some days I miss him so much. Though… it's gotten better. Since you came here," completed Merlin tentatively, glancing over at the body beside him. It was too dark to see any reaction.

"Who else?" the knight asked simply, his voice kind and maybe… happy? Merlin took a deep breath and said the next person who had come to mind.

"My father. I didn't know him at all when I was growing up, and I met him just before…" Merlin took a shaky breath. "…just before he died. There is _so much_ we could have talked about, so much he could have taught me. But I'll never know."

"I'm sorry," said Mordred sincerely. He heard a bit of sniffling and felt the sheets rustle as Merlin moved his hand to wipe away his tears.

A bolt of sadness struck Mordred in the gut. Life had been even harder for the young warlock than he'd ever known, and it hurt Mordred to see him hurting this way. He wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. Nothing else coming to mind, he asked, "Anyone else?" just to get Merlin's mind off of his father.

"One person. Just… her name was Freya," replied Merlin, his sad tone gaining an undertone of wistfulness. For some reason, Mordred felt his stomach twisting unhappily. "She was cursed to turn into a monster every night, and so Arthur and his men killed her. Just one more person that I wasn't able to save. And I… I _loved_ her," Merlin's voice was breaking. "I was going to run away with her, but she… she…"

Merlin tried to halt his tears, but they ran trickling down his trembling cheeks and made it impossible for him to continue. Shaking, he kept wiping them away as soon as they came, hoping that Mordred somehow wouldn't notice his tremors, or how choked-up his voice had gotten.

Mordred, on the other hand, was overcome with powerfully conflicting emotions. A part of him felt deep compassion for Merlin, and instinctively wanted to comfort him, make everything ok again. But another part of him felt sick to the core. If he had to name the feeling he might call it jealousy, as difficult as that was to admit. It made him angry to know that someone else occupied that sort of position in Merlin's heart. It wasn't right.

For the first time, Mordred allowed himself to realize that perhaps Merlin was more than just a friend to him. In fact, judging by the way that Merlin's presence made him happier than anything else, the way that Merlin's smiles lit up his heart, the way that only Merlin's jokes could make him truly laugh, and now the way that jealousy was infecting him… it was _highly_ probable that he cared for Merlin in a greater capacity than "just friends".

Well then.

Trying to shove these overwhelming thoughts aside for the time being, Mordred turned on his side, facing Merlin. He clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulders, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry, Emrys. But it wasn't your fault. You have to know that."

Merlin said nothing, but his lips continued to tremble.

"Shhhh…" murmured Mordred soothingly. Removing his hand from the warlock's shoulder, he reached up and softly brushed his fingers through Merlin's soft black hair. In the way that he had been taken care of as a child when ill, the druid man continued to stroke Merlin's hair lightly.

Merlin released a shuddering breath. Mordred's touch was sweet and calming. He began to relax, and was grateful to feel that the tears had ceased coming.

"Sleep, Emrys," his companion whispered softly. "Just go to sleep."

And soon, he did.


	4. The Simurgh

_Author's Note: Thank you so much to the amazing response to this story. Many many thanks to all of my reviewers! I can't express how much I appreciate reading your comments. Enjoy this latest installment._

* * *

"Thank you for granting me this audience, Your Majesty," expelled the peasant gratefully.

From his spot on the side of the room, where he stood with Gaius, Merlin observed the kneeling man. He was small and middle-aged, with a balding head and scraggly gray-brown beard.

"You're welcome. Please, rise," requested Arthur kindly. The man obeyed. "What is your name?"

"Matthew, sire."

"And what is it that has brought you here today?"

"I come to… report, sire, the recent goings-on in my village. You see, it all started just a few days ago. Well… the bad things, that is. Things started happenin' long before that, sire, yes they did."

"What is it that ails your village?" Arthur asked directly.

"Well, Your Majesty, you see, there's um… there's a bird," Matthew stuttered to a stop, his eyes flashing nervously at all those around him. As was customary with such audiences, many were in attendance: the King and Queen, the Court Physician, the Knights of Camelot, and a select few servants and figures of political importance.

"A bird?" repeated Arthur, attempting to keep his voice professional and not judgmental.

"Not just _any_ bird, sire, it isn't!" the man blurted. "A- A _giant_ one! A giant bird with- with a…"

"Go on."

"Well that's… you see…" His eyes flicked about once more, whether more from anxiety or embarrassment, Merlin couldn't tell. "…It has a head like that of a dog, sire, and claws like those of a lion."

Hushed murmurs spread throughout the courtroom, but were silenced instantly when Arthur held up his hand.

"Go on, Matthew."

"Well it- this bird, it has lived near our village for many years, it has, many plentiful years for us. When it first arrived almost ten and ten years ago, food was scarce, the harvest was… pitiful. My people were struggling to survive, sire. But then the bird came. Changed everything. Food was abundant, the harvests came in rich. From that day we've had only good luck. Many of us thought that… thought that the dog-bird was some kind of good omen.

"Until now," he concluded, his expression turning hard. "Suddenly the thing has turned on us. We don' know why. But it flies in, flies in you see, steals our livestock, and once, once it even tried to steal a young man. Sire, it could've done it had our men not come to his side, indeed it could've! It is big and strong enough. We need your help, Majesty. We will not survive if this beast continues to plague our village."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Matthew," replied the King, "I will see to it that this creature is removed from your lands. Return to your people, and tell them that the Knights of Camelot follow close behind you."

Relief splashed across the man's face. "Oh, thank you, sire! You are a Godsend, sire, a blessing, a blessing! Thank you, Your Majesty!" With one last deep bow, Matthew scurried from the courtroom.

Arthur and Gwen both rose from their thrones and came down the steps. Arthur made his way straight to Gaius.

"Gaius, what do you know of this creature?" he asked.

"Body of a bird, head of a dog, claws of a lion… I believe, sire, that it may be a _simurgh_."

"And what's that?"

"A magical beast, sire. Related to the rocs."

"Rocks?" repeated Arthur dumbly, a confused furrow in his brow.

"Not stones, sire, a type of giant eagle, as the tales would have it. But the simurgh is a bit different. They are said to live unnaturally long lives-"

"How long exactly?" he interrupted. Gaius gave a kind of half-shrug.

"I couldn't say," the physician admitted. "Hundreds, perhaps _thousands_ of years. They are very wise as well, as a result of their many years of life. But they are also said to be _benevolent_ creatures. The good fortune that Matthew described is what I would _expect_ of a village adopted by a simurgh, but I don't know what on earth could have caused the change. It is very odd, sire. I have never read anything that would suggest that this sort of behavior is natural."

Arthur nodded grimly.

"Thank you, Gaius." He turned to address his men. "I'll take a force of five men. That should be enough to handle the bird. Leon, Darius, Elyan… uh, Mordred and Percival. We ride out in an hour."

The chosen knights bowed their heads in acknowledgment as Arthur and Gwen made their way out of the courtroom. The rest of the courtroom's inhabitants filed out behind their monarchs, but Merlin briefly met the eyes of one young knight who glanced his way before following the rest of the crowd. Even after the piercing blue eyes turned away, Merlin's heart kept beating just a little too fast.

_Why do I still have this reaction to Mordred? _he asked himself confusedly as he and Gaius, the last two in the chamber, made their way out. _I don't fear him anymore, not like I used to. We're friends. Why does-_

"Merlin?"

The young man jumped, turning to face his guardian.

"Yes?"

"Did you hear a word of what I just said?" asked Gaius strictly.

"Ah… no?" Merlin tentatively replied. He grimaced at the resigned annoyance on Gaius' face. "Sorry! I'm sorry, I was thinking. I'm listening now. What were you saying?"

"I want you to be _careful_, Merlin. As I told Arthur, the simurgh is meant to be a gentle creature. For it to be acting this way…"

Merlin's brow crinkled at Gaius' solemn expression.

"What? Do you… do you think _magic_ might be involved?" he asked.

"That's _exactly _what I think. I'm afraid that the King might be walking straight into a trap."

"Don't worry, I'll protect him. But who do you think would do this? Why? It doesn't really sound like Morgana."

"I don't know who or why, Merlin. But it's best not to take any chances until we _do_. I only hope that Arthur is right about needing just five men."

* * *

"_What_?" Arthur cried incredulously.

"Look, I'm just saying… maybe he should sit this one out," said Merlin carefully. "Gwaine could take his place!"

"I didn't know you _cared_ so much about Sir Mordred," said Arthur mockingly, "And when did this development occur exactly?"

"It's not like that. It's just… well we don't know exactly what we're going to be facing."

"So?" pressed Arthur. "Why does that mean he should stay behind?"

"Because! Because he's…" fumbled Merlin.

What could he say? He had no excuse for this request! He had absolutely _no_ idea what to tell Arthur. He wasn't even sure what to tell him_self_. A part of Merlin wished to pretend that he didn't want Mordred coming along in case he took the opportunity to cause some damage… but his heart wasn't buying it. No, he trusted Mordred, stupid as that may be. The real reason was much more difficult to come to terms with.

If Gaius was right, and it really was a trap, then six knights might not be enough. The logical part of his brain cried, _'Then of _course_ Mordred should come! Two with magic is better than one!"_, but another part, a part that he couldn't help but identify as affection for the young druid man, said, _"But what if he gets hurt? I can't protect both Arthur _and_ Mordred, and I don't want anything to happen to _either _of them."_

Merlin was _definitely_ not telling Arthur that! He needed a better—and less embarrassing—reason than "I don't want him to get hurt."

"He's so young!" the manservant burst. "He's got barely any experience."

"And do you know how he can fix that, Merlin? By _getting experience_," exclaimed Arthur exasperatedly. "Besides, I was younger than Mordred when I started going on expeditions like these. He'll be fine. Now stop crowing over him like a mother hen."

"I wasn't crowing over him!" protested Merlin, but he shut up about it anyways. It had probably been silly even to bring it up.

* * *

Merlin, Arthur, and the five other knights were riding their horses down the paved dirt road. Arthur glanced over at his unusually quiet servant, who appeared to be lost in thought.

"_If I'm correct about this being the work of magic," Gaius said, "then the simurgh is not truly to blame for its actions. Remember, Merlin, the simurgh is an ancient being of magic and knowledge, and they are _very_ rare. If you see any way to break whatever enchantment has been cast upon it, and save it's life, then by all means, do so. Try speaking with it. I believe the simurgh to be one of the beasts that can speak telepathically, in order to impart its knowledge upon those worthy of its gifts. So do try to save it. If you cannot…"_

"_Then Arthur and Camelot come first," completed Merlin, although it pained him just as much as Gaius to think of killing such a magnificent creature. Gaius nodded solemnly._

"_Well. Whatever happens, don't be too hard on yourself," he said gently. "And be sure to take care."_

_Merlin smiled appreciatively and replied, "Thanks, Gaius. I'll be back soon."_

"Something on your mind, Merlin?" Arthur's inquisitive voice broke through Merlin's reflections.

"Just another of those times that I tell you something is a bad idea and you ignore me," replied Merlin brightly.

"Well at least you know when to give up," Arthur commented. "Besides, I don't see what you're so worried about. It's just a bird, I think six of the most skilled fighters in all of Camelot can handle it."

"Let's hope so."

"And what else would you have me do? I'm not going to abandon my people."

"I know." And though Merlin truly did have his concerns about the mission, he couldn't mask the pride in his tone.

_Why _are _you so anxious, Emrys?_ Mordred's voice echoed softly in Merlin's mind. He had to consciously stop himself from turning around in his saddle to face his friend.

_Gaius suspects magic might be involved,_ explained Merlin. _I have no idea if magic will be needed to _defeat_ it, and I don't know what spells would even work._

_Can I help? _Mordred asked.

_Well, actually…_

* * *

Mordred hadn't spoken a word all trip, and his expression was as calm as anyone had ever seen it. Everyone, with the exception of Merlin, was relaxed about this venture, and Mordred had no desire to stand out. Merlin had warned him about the magic, so all he could do was protect Arthur and the others the best he could, and rely on Merlin to do the same.

Telepathy, Merlin had told him, the simurgh most likely communicated through telepathy. And since Mordred was more skilled in that area than the older warlock, Merlin had asked him to try speaking to the creature, to discover what troubled it. Talk it down.

Very well then. Mordred would do so. But first they had to _find_ it.

Upon arriving at the village, Arthur and the rest had been pointed in the direction of a nearby forest where the simurgh resided. The band of knights plus Merlin had spread out and had now been walking through those woods for nearly a half hour, with no sighting of any birds of unusual size or features. Mordred was reaching out with his mind, but there was only silence there.

"Mordred." The druid's attention snapped to his approaching King as he emerged from his internal efforts. Arthur looked mildly concerned as he came to a halt beside his youngest knight. "Are you alright? You seem distracted. Your eyes were… glazed. It was as if you were somewhere else entirely. Are you feeling ill?"

"Perfectly fine, milord," answered Mordred with a quick smile. "I apologize."

Arthur nodded acceptance and smiled, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. As Arthur turned to walk away, Mordred's eyes found Merlin's figure.

_Emrys_, he called out, intent upon informing Merlin of his failure to contact the creature. Merlin turned his way.

Then a few different things happened in rapid succession.

Mordred heard, but did not have time to process, a loud noise from behind him. Simultaneously, Merlin shouted out, "_Mordred_!" with all the power in his lungs, his face twisted in fear. A bare millisecond later, with his heart racing, Mordred whirled around, drawing his sword in the process. But already he knew it was a lost cause. It would not be fast enough. He sensed, more than saw, a huge claw swiping towards him, about to either knock him down, or, more likely, slice him into thin, bloody strips.

Another loud roar rang in his ears, but this time, it was not the shriek of a gigantic dog-bird. It was that of Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, as he lunged in front of Mordred, sword swinging, taking the blow meant for the younger man. Though he managed to leave a long bleeding scratch on the creature's arm, the impact still sent Arthur flying through the air until he collided with a large tree and crumpled at the base of the trunk, unconscious. Mordred stood momentarily motionless, utterly stunned, unable to process the unexpected turn of events so quickly.

"_ARTHUR_!"

This time, Merlin's bellow was more drawn out, and full of a desperation that crept under Mordred's skin and drove a splinter into his heart. He instantly snapped free of his paralysis, and his instinct was to release a burst of raw magic that would be enough to stun, if not kill, this creature that dared to hurt Arthur, to hurt _Merlin_!

But then Mordred noticed, even as he registered the sounds of the other knights crashing through the forest trees to reach them, that the beast had ceased its violent attack. In fact, it landed its paws back on the ground, shaking its dog head, but making no move towards Mordred. Confused, Mordred glanced briefly in Arthur's direction, and immediately understood.

There, crouched beside Arthur, was Merlin, his hand extended towards the animal, his lips making the barest of movements, and his eyes flashing a beautiful, intoxicating golden. Mordred hadn't the faintest clue what spell Merlin was using, but he was grateful for it.

_This won't keep it calm much longer,_ informed Merlin briskly. _Try talking to it. Now! There isn't much time!_

Wasting no time on a reply, the young knight turned back to the simurgh, which was pawing restlessly at the ground, its body quivering slightly.

_Can you hear me?_ he called out to it. The eyes snapped up to meet his, but there was no response. _Can you understand me?_

A moment passed in utter silence (in Mordred's mind that is—the forest around was still full of sound), and then it happened without warning.

Gasping—more out of sudden shock than want of air—Mordred began to reel as a montage of painfully colorful and vivid pictures, memories, thoughts, and emotions assaulted his mind and senses. His knees buckled as they continued to flood within him, pressing down like a weight upon both his mind and body.

Mordred's eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to fight the pain of the overwhelming sensation and yet still absorb all the knowledge that the simurgh had chosen to give him.

Just when he began to feel he could take no more in, everything stopped. Mordred's mind was blissfully empty, free of any outside presence. His eyes blinked open—but this was a mistake. The world around him was blurry and swaying in a most unpleasant way. He felt a jolt and realized that he must have toppled the remainder of the way to the ground.

Still in a daze, the remnants of the simurgh's gift leaving him drained and feeling rather sick, Mordred used all his energy to focus his eyes for only a few seconds, just to discover what had happened to the bird. His stomach roiled with disgust as he saw the great creature on the ground, dead, felled by the knights who stood about it, some of whom were about to make their way to him.

But someone else reached him first. Though he had no strength to smile, Mordred was filled with sudden happiness as the man he'd come to love came into view above him.

* * *

Merlin dropped hastily to his knees next to where Mordred had just collapsed. He was still conscious, but he was paler than usual and he was sweating profusely. The knight's eyes took one look at Merlin, then fluttered shut. Merlin nervously placed a hand on his friend's forehead, testing his temperature. A bit chilled, but he seemed ok.

_Mordred? _he called anxiously.

Though Mordred did not move an inch, his voice nonetheless responded, _Emrys, I am alright. All I need is to rest here for a moment. Tend to Arthur. He needs you more than I do._

Merlin's eyes glanced over at Arthur with worry. Leon and Percival were at his side now, checking his vitals. Merlin had already done so, and knew that they would find what he had: Arthur was alive and mostly fine, just unconscious, with a nasty bump on the back of his head and maybe a few bruises. In fact, there was probably a massive bruise on his side where the simurgh had struck, but Merlin hadn't taken the liberty of looking. He knew Arthur, and Arthur could handle the pain. Still, it was difficult to see the King looking so weak and battered, particularly since Arthur _was_ Merlin's best friend, and though he could _handle_ pain, that didn't mean that it didn't hurt Merlin to see him struggling through it.

But then again (Merlin's eyes snapped back to the body beside him), Mordred looked dreadful, and Merlin had no inkling of _why_. What had happened? He had looked like he was in such pain, and then he'd simply collapsed. For some reason, the thought of leaving Mordred's side felt like someone was sticking a knife into Merlin's gut. It was hard even to tear his _eyes_ away from his wounded friend.

Damn it all! This was _exactly_ why he hadn't wanted both Mordred and Arthur to come along on the mission! In the split second in which he'd prepared to protect Mordred from the bird's attack, Arthur had gotten there first, and Arthur had been injured. It was just as he'd thought earlier. He couldn't protect them both.

And now _both_ were hurt, and while Merlin's instinctive loyalties drew him to Arthur, his heart was divided.

Unable to choose, Merlin stayed put for the moment, trying to ignore the inner voice that screamed for him to return to Arthur's side. Arthur was, after all, his destiny. The other side of his coin.

But Mordred was his friend, and Merlin didn't wish to abandon him. Not in this state. The manservant gently wiped the sweat off Mordred's brow with his neckerchief, and his heart pounded as his fingers gently brushed the druid's sweat-soaked hair off his forehead.

_Emrys… _go_…_ Mordred pushed him, still not moving, eyes still closed. With that, Merlin was resolved. Resolved not to leave Mordred's side. His voice had sounded… tired, pained, conflicted. If Mordred was letting those emotions break through, when usually he was perfectly in control, then something was wrong indeed.

_No_, he said firmly, _I'm not leaving you._

"Merlin?"

Merlin's head snapped up to Elyan and Darius and wondered how long they'd just been standing there.

"It's alright, we've got him," assured Darius.

"Go be with the King. He needs you right now, he's just starting to wake up," said Elyan. "We'll take care of Mordred, don't worry."

_They're right, Emrys_, the druid agreed, and now, _finally_, his eyes were starting to blink open again and his body shifted ever so slightly. Merlin nearly released a sigh of relief. _See? I'm fine. Go, now._

Reluctantly acquiescing under the pressure, Merlin nodded to all three and left Mordred's side, returning to Arthur's. As Arthur groggily blinked himself into consciousness, Merlin stole one last look behind him, just to be sure that Mordred was indeed being cared for.

* * *

The group of six galloped back into Camelot. Mordred had recovered enough to ride by himself, though the pale sheen of sweat lingered and Merlin kept a close eye on him. Arthur on the other hand had been forced to ride with Sir Leon (though he did put up a right fuss about it), and Sir Darius was leading his vacant horse. Though Arthur was mostly conscious, he couldn't walk or ride by himself, and Merlin was worried that he may have suffered head injuries, perhaps some internal bleeding in his brain.

Immediately upon their arrival at the castle, Merlin led Leon and Percival, who were supporting Arthur between them, to Gaius' chambers. The two knights expressed concerns over their friend, but were reassured by Gaius that he would be just fine, so they cleared out to give the physician his space. Arthur was put in Merlin's room and Gaius made him up a concoction to counteract the concussion he had acquired.

"I'm… puh-erfectly fine," slurred Arthur. "This isn't neh-ecessary…"

"I am sure you are right, sire," agreed Gaius complacently, "But still, I would feel better if you would drink this. It will help you sleep, if nothing else." Arthur gave an odd sort of shrug and downed the liquid. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

It was at this time that Gwen burst in, a worried look on her face, and plopped down in a chair beside her husband, grabbing his hand. Merlin and Gaius took their leave.

"I couldn't save the simurgh, Gaius," he admitted sadly. "The knights killed it." Gaius let out a sigh, but nodded. He'd been expecting that.

"I used my magic to calm it," Merlin continued, "and it made it easier for them to strike. I-"

"It's alright, Merlin," assured his adoptive father. "You always do your best."

"I didn't notice any spells already on it, but I can't be sure. I guess we'll never know what happened."

"It seems that way."

After a brief pause, Merlin quietly divulged, "Mordred also suffered injuries. At least, I think he did."

"Think?"

"I'm not entirely sure what happened. But he should have come to see you, at the very least. I'm gonna go check on him."

* * *

Mordred forcefully closed the door behind himself. Finally alone, he stumbled to his bed, not even able to remove his uniform. He stopped to lean against his bedpost, his legs too weak to support him unaided. It had sucked up all of his barely regained energy to act normal around the others, and walk about as if he had the strength to.

But in truth, he didn't. The simurgh's telepathic transfer had left Mordred mentally and emotionally exhausted. As he let his act fade away, Mordred's limbs were overtaken with an uncontrollable quivering.

Unable to stay upright any longer, Mordred slid down to the floor with a metallic clang. The tremors continued as the simurgh's memories refused to leave his mind's eyes. There was just too much to bear. He felt like crying, screaming, thrashing about, clawing at his own skin, and it was taking all his control to just sit in place trembling erratically. He remained there, back against the foot of the bed, for some time.

Until he heard a knock at the door.

Mordred's stomach twisted and he felt his hands shake with greater fervor. He knew the identity of his caller, and he didn't want him here. Not now. Not when he was so pathetically weak. All of his mental barriers had been destroyed, leaving him vulnerable. And considering his physical state, there wasn't much likelihood of convincing Merlin that nothing was wrong.

And yet he couldn't muster the willpower to yell out and send his visitor away. So, after a short pause, Merlin entered the room. His calm expression vanished instantly when he saw Mordred on the floor. He rushed to the other man's side.

"Mordred! Look at me!" he demanded, grabbing the younger's man chin and directing it towards him. He felt a rush of relief to see Mordred's blue eyes lock on his. At least his mind was present. "I'm taking you to Gaius, _now_." He reached out to haul the knight to his feet.

"No!" exclaimed Mordred. Merlin retracted his arm. "No, Gaius cannot… help me."

"You don't know that," said Merlin firmly, "He might have something. I can't just leave you like this!"

"Trust me, Emrys, there is no remedy for what ails me. I won't go."

"What _happened_ to you, Mordred?" cried Merlin. A powerful shiver echoed through the knight's shaking frame. Feeling sick to the stomach, Merlin got to work removing Mordred's cape and armor. Perhaps he would be more comfortable without their weight.

"Memories," the druid revealed, his voice coming out rough and strained. Merlin's eyes watched him in fascination even as his fingers continued their work. "It showed me a collection of its memories, events it had been… witness to during its lifetime. It was a gift, what it gave me, but… it's a… difficult one to bear. It's so… painful, to have all that flash through your mind in a matter of moments. To live with the burden of that knowledge, which isn't truly yours. You have no idea how it feels."

Merlin removed the last of the armor, throwing it carelessly onto the bed. Sitting beside Mordred (who was now clad only in a white cotton shirt and breeches), Merlin instinctively put his arm around the younger man's shoulders, pulling him against Merlin's side. Mordred willingly curled up into the warlock, laying his head back on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin held him tightly as the quivers continued.

Though his insides were still reeling, Mordred felt better being held in the confines of Merlin's arms. As some of the tension in his body began to seep away, a few tears broke free and rolled silently down his cheeks.

"It's ok, I'm right here," murmured Merlin, "You're going to be ok."

"I've never… felt so much at one time," whispered Mordred, his tremors beginning to lessen. "It hurt, Emrys. It hurt like nothing I'd ever… experienced before. There was a moment that I thought… I thought I wouldn't survive it, that I would just… die, right there and then."

"You are _stronger_ than that, Mordred," Merlin said. "You proved that. You withstood the pain, and soon this'll pass. You'll be fine. In fact, you'll be _better_ than fine, because once the pain goes away, you'll be left with the knowledge of thousands of years. And you _earned_ that. The simurgh decided you were worthy of its gifts, and now you've proved it."

Mordred's eyes fluttered shut and he curled tighter into Merlin, grasping at the cloth of Merlin's shirt. The knight didn't even care at this point that he was showing weakness. Merlin had made him feel at ease, and his comforting embrace was slowly making him feel ok once more.

The two men remained there in silence for some minutes. At one point Merlin ran a calming hand over Mordred's hair without even thinking about it. When he did so, Merlin couldn't help but to notice the way his heart picked up its pace.

Looking down at the young man in his arms, Merlin was struck by just how gorgeous Mordred was. Not just his admittedly striking features, but who he was as a person. It tore at Merlin's heart to see the normally witty, amiable, _strong_ man reduced to this state of vulnerability and hurt. Merlin was filled with the need to comfort Mordred, to protect him from all the pain in the world.

Odd. That was a familiar feeling, actually. And it wasn't like the way he felt about Arthur.

It was the way he'd felt about Freya.

Merlin's heart pounded loudly in his chest. Was his mind really going down this train of thought? But now he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop himself from remembering all of the times Mordred had made him smile, laugh, blush, or just simply made him _happy_. Mordred was his confidant. Mordred was his equal. Mordred understood him in every way, and accepted him for all that he was, and trusted Merlin to do the same in return. It was the most fulfilling friendship that Merlin had.

And now he understood. It was more than a friendship. At least, it was to him. These feelings that the manservant was now acknowledging to himself were definitely more than those of friendship. But Merlin had no idea how Mordred felt.

_Now isn't the time_, he told himself, as he vaguely wondered if Mordred could hear or feel the change in Merlin's heartbeat.

Still, when Mordred—trembling no longer—lifted his head from Merlin's shoulder and gazed at Merlin with those stunning blue eyes, it took a great deal of effort for Merlin not to simply lean forward and kiss him.

_NOT. GOOD. _shouted Merlin's inner voice, and the warlock swallowed nervously.

Mordred felt a warm spark fly through his veins when Merlin's eyes met with his. The aftershock of the simurgh's gift had finally faded away, mostly due, Mordred was sure, to the man holding him.

As always, ever since his revelation of his feelings for Merlin, Mordred couldn't help noticing Merlin's undeniable beauty. His tall lean frame, his cute flop of black hair, those soft blue eyes, and his sharp, pale features… It was hard enough to resist Merlin at the _best _of times, but _now_? With his mental barriers destroyed as they were? But maybe… maybe that wasn't such a bad thing…

Slowly, Mordred sat up a bit straighter. His eyes still firmly locked on Merlin's, he began to lean in closer to the other man. Something inside of Mordred protested, but that muffled voice of reason was easy to ignore.

Merlin's heart erupted in thunderous drumbeats as he saw what Mordred was doing. Could this really be happening, and right after Merlin had recognized his feelings for the druid man? Was it truly possible that Mordred felt the same way? Unsure if he'd completely lost it, Merlin leaned forward just as slowly.

Their lips met. Both pairs of eyes closed at the soft touch. An electric tingling emanated through both men, a wonderful feeling of warmth and desire. Their mouths moved slowly together, and Merlin's hand reached out to gently caress Mordred's cheek.

The kiss quickly deepened, losing its softness and becoming more needy on both sides. Mordred nipped teasingly at Merlin's lips, drawing a soft moan from the warlock as he surrendered his mouth to Mordred's exploring tongue.

Mordred became unsatisfied with the restricting angle of their bodies where they sat, so he broke the kiss and shifted his body swiftly, and before Merlin really knew what was happening, Mordred was straddling him.

Mordred reconnected their lips with force, drawing another moan from the man beneath him. He lost himself in the taste of Merlin's tongue, the warmth of Merlin's body, and the silky feel of Merlin's hair.

Suddenly, Merlin yanked out the kiss, saying, "No, stop! Wait!" Stunned, Mordred complied, his eyes meeting the warlock's confusedly. Merlin made it clear with hand gestures that he wished Mordred to get off of him, so he stood up compliantly. Merlin followed suit quickly, visibly shaking a bit. He looked guilty.

"Emrys?" said Mordred hesitantly. The intensity of Merlin's gaze kept him still.

"I'm sorry, I…" Merlin explained, face twisting with confusion, guilt, pain. "I can't… I have to go."

With that, Merlin strode to the door and opened it. He paused, turning back to look at Mordred. The knight hadn't moved an inch. Merlin felt a guilty pang in his chest. But nonetheless, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him.


	5. Seeking Royal Relationship Advice

_Author's Note: Thanks again for the wonderful response to this story! Please leave a review, to let me know what you think so far._

* * *

Merlin paced anxiously in his room, not at all bothered by the unconscious King in his bed.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't _believe_ it! He'd _kissed_ _Mordred_! What had he been _thinking_? Mordred, the longtime friend of Morgana. Mordred, the dangerous and powerful sorcerer. Mordred, the druid destined to kill Arthur.

Merlin's hands grabbed painfully at his hair, tearing at it in his frustration. He felt impossibly lost and confused. The feelings he was fighting were _real_, he could tell that much. They weren't just the product of some attraction or infatuation. No, these feelings were genuine. Merlin struggled to avoid thinking in terms of the L word, but still, he couldn't entirely ignore the depth of his affections. And it made him _crazy_.

Merlin truly couldn't understand it. Because it was true—Mordred was like no one he'd ever known before. He was cool, composed, confident, powerful, funny, witty, supportive, brilliant, loyal, sexy (more hair-tearing ensued), and just wonderful in every conceivable way.

_But he was destined for evil_! It just didn't compute! Everything that his experiences with Mordred had taught him suggested that Mordred was an amazing, exquisite person, but if those visions of the future were as accurate as the other visions the warlock had seen in his time, then there was something seriously sinister lurking beneath Mordred's pleasing—_gorgeous_ (more hair-tearing ensued)—exterior.

When he finally lay down on his makeshift bed on the floor beside Gaius, Merlin's mind still raced furiously, refusing to be at peace.

He'd be lying if he said that there wasn't a strong part of him that was deeply interested in pursuing a relationship with the young druid man. But he'd also be lying if he said that the idea didn't fill him with gut-wrenching anxiety and guilt. Pursuing a relationship with Mordred, knowing what he did about the future, had to be some sort of soul-damning sin.

But to deny that need inside of him, that intense craving for Mordred, wouldn't that be a crime as well? It certainly felt wrong when Merlin thought about it. _So_ wrong.

Accepting the fact that he would come to no conclusions tonight, Merlin eventually drifted off to sleep. There was he met with night-visions of a mysterious, dark-haired knight.

* * *

Arthur's concussion had been fixed by Gaius' remedy, but as Merlin had suspected, his side was one massive bruise. Still, the King refused to take even a day off. After gulping down a drug meant to dull the pain, Arthur continued on with his everyday tasks, including training as usual with the knights. Merlin couldn't help but to admire his master's stubborn determination, even if he _did _consider Arthur an idiot.

Earlier in the day, when Merlin had been carefully helping Arthur dress, he'd asked, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Jump in front of Mordred the way you did."

Arthur glanced at his manservant, and Merlin worried that his friend could see through his tone of feigned indifference.

"He's one of my men," answered Arthur simply. And that was all that was said on the matter.

* * *

Merlin felt as though he should be worrying more about Arthur's injuries—isn't that what he would _normally_ do?—but he found that as he did his chores that day, his mind was fixed on an entirely different man.

If only he could talk to someone, someone that he could trust with a matter this delicate. Merlin needed advice, and badly, or at the very _least_ someone to unload this burden onto, someone who could understand a bit of what he was going through. Otherwise his mind was about ready to rip itself to shreds in a vicious internal war. But Merlin could think of no such person.

Gaius was like a father to him, so this wasn't really the sort of thing they could comfortably discuss.

Gwaine was a great friend, but not really the let's-have-a-serious-talk, advice-giving type.

Arthur too was a great friend, but well… He was Arthur. Any conversation that Merlin started about his love life would inevitably be incredibly awkward and probably lead to a bundle of teasing.

Who else did he have?

Merlin stopped dead in the midst of helping Gaius clean as an answer occurred to him. A friend, someone that just might work. Maybe…

He stopped to check the time. The knights were still at training. Excellent. That gave him a little time before Arthur returned. With that optimistic thought, Merlin dropped what he was doing and raced out the door, deaf to Gaius' calls behind him.

* * *

The door to Arthur and Gwen's chambers swung shut with a mighty bang behind the panting manservant.

"Merlin!" the Queen exclaimed, looking up from the papers on their desk. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no, not exactly," he said, catching his breath, "I just… well I just… wondered if you might… have time to just… talk?" Gwen looked surprised, but smiled kindly.

"Of course," she assured him. "You're still my closest friend, you know." Merlin flashed her a grateful smile, stepping further into the room, his heart rate slowing down satisfactorily. "What is it you wished to talk about? I assume there's something specific on your mind."

"Well, yes…" Merlin's mouth flopped open and closed like a fish caught on a hook. Gwen watched him struggle for a few moments and then let out a bright laugh. Merlin chuckled at himself along with her, brushing a hand sheepishly through his hair.

"Come on, Merlin, it can't be that bad! Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I won't laugh or anything, I promise."

"Will you… will you promise not to tell Arthur?" asked Merlin hesitantly. "It's just… It's personal. And I'd rather he didn't hear about it."

"Of course. If that's what you want, I'll keep it to myself. You have my word," she assured him. Merlin smiled.

"Thanks… Well I'm having some trouble, and I thought you'd understand the way I'm feeling because… well, because I know that you have experience with loving someone that you know you shouldn't," Merlin explained, rushing swiftly over the last bit. A blush spread across his cheeks as he resolutely held Gwen's gaze. A joyous smile lit her face, but there was also sympathy in her dark eyes.

"Yes, I do know all about that," she agreed. "Why don't you sit down, Merlin, and tell me more about it?"

Merlin took the chair offered to him. His eyes focused down in his lap where his hands were fiddling anxiously. He couldn't bring himself to look back at her, knowing it would only make him blush all over again.

"So. Why is it that you feel you shouldn't love her?" asked Gwen, getting straight to the point.

_Because _he_ is one of Arthur's knights and I have an uneasy suspicion that he's secretly evil and going to kill Arthur one day_, Merlin thought dryly.

"It's… complicated," he said, "I don't really… trust them. I guess I… I'm afraid that they're willingly heading down a path of evil."

"But you love her, don't you?"

"Yes! I can't understand it!" he burst out frustratedly.

"Well… how about you tell me some of the reasons why you love her."

The manservant shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Gwen… I want to be honest with you…"

Guinevere shot him a confused glance. "Well of course. I hope you always feel that you can be open with me, Merlin."

"I do! It's just… well… I think you should know that it's _not…_ a her. It's a him."

Merlin locked his eyes on Gwen's, nervously gauging her reaction. Her eyes did widen a bit at first, but she quickly adjusted to the news and smiled.

"Well. Thank you for being honest with me. I'm so sorry, I never meant to make assumptions-"

Merlin was stunned and quickly cut in, "No, no it's fine! I mean… it was a perfectly normal assumption to make, and I don't mind. I just didn't know what you'd think."

"I don't care, Merlin," Gwen said forcefully. She paused as a thought occurred to her. "Unless… It isn't Arthur, is it?"

Merlin looked horrified. "No! That royal prat? You can _keep_ him." Gwen laughed merrily and Merlin chuckled as well.

"So… you're really sure that you're ok with it?" he continued hesitantly. Gwen reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"You're my friend. It doesn't matter to me."

Relieved, Merlin smiled gratefully at her.

"Thank you. That alone means more than I can say."

"Don't be silly," she scolded playfully, "Now tell me more about him."

"Well he… he's clever, _really_ clever. He's someone I can really have serious, intelligent conversations with. But at the same time… his eyes, sometimes they… it feels like they're dancing, and he can be so playful and… He's fun. He… understands me in ways that no one else ever has," said Merlin carefully. Gwen was still listening intently, a knowing smile on her lips. "But… he's practically _destined_ to do bad things! I mean, it feels that way at least. Even though it- it's just so hard to believe sometimes. He seems so good."

Merlin took a moment to collect his thoughts, and Gwen waited patiently. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—nearly a whisper—and filled with sadness.

"How has this even happened? How could I _possibly _fall in love with someone that I know is bad? Maybe I _am_ as idiotic as Arthur thinks…"

"First of all, you know that Arthur doesn't really think that," the Queen corrected gently. "Second of all, it doesn't make you stupid to fall in love with another person. You may know things rationally that your heart simply doesn't accept. Love doesn't rely on logic and reason, Merlin."

"But why not?" Merlin sighed in defeat. "This is ridiculous. I've disliked him from the day we met."

"Well, people can change, you know that," remarked Gwen. "Do you remember your first impression of Arthur?" Merlin snorted. "But he's changed _so_ _much_ for the better since then. Maybe this man has as well."

"But it's more than that, it's… I'm afraid of what he might do. How can my heart have feelings for someone that I don't even trust?"

"Maybe your heart _does_ trust him," Gwen suggested. Merlin's head snapped up. "Your _head_ may not be willing to trust him, but that doesn't mean your heart has to agree. Have you considered the possibility that you're ignoring your instincts? It sounds to me as if you may have greater faith in him than you realize."

Merlin was stunned by this observation. He rolled the idea around in his head for a while before trusting himself to speak again.

"Really? Do you _really_ think so?"

Gwen nodded firmly. "Now of course, I don't have any specific knowledge of this man, so I can't be sure of anything. But just from speaking with you… that's what I think. And don't forget, love is stronger than anything. If you love him, and if he loves you, perhaps the things that you're frightened of will never happen. Love is the most powerful thing in the world, even more powerful than destiny."

"More powerful than destiny…" he repeated in a daze.

_The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield_. Mordred's words came back to him suddenly.

"And what is his destiny if not a plot for power?" Merlin mumbled to himself.

"Pardon?"

The point to killing Arthur _had_ to be the pursuit of power, and if Mordred truly believed what he'd said, and Guinevere was also correct, then love would triumph. If Mordred loved Merlin in return, perhaps he would abandon his destiny for Merlin's sake.

In that case…

Merlin leapt to his feet with a burst of hope, a grin beaming from his face. Now that he was accepting a possible scenario where his love for Mordred was good not bad, the warlock was entirely overwhelmed with the depths of his emotions. He felt adrenaline pumping through his veins and his heart felt lighter than before. He imagined his heart growing wings and lifting right out of his body, flying to Mordred's side before Merlin himself could get there.

He nearly slapped himself for such absurd thoughts, but he just smiled his goofy smile instead. This giddy feeling was something he hadn't felt since Freya, and not even with her had it manifested so fiercely within him.

Excitedly turning his attention back to Gwen (who had also stood up), he expelled, "Gwen, thank you. Really. Thank you. I've got to go!"

"Good luck, Merlin!" Gwen called after him as he raced from the room. When the door slammed shut behind the young man, she settled back into her chair with a smile. She'd recognized that expression on Merlin's face. She knew what it meant.

The Queen was very happy for her friend.

* * *

Having slammed the door shut behind him, Merlin raced down the hallway, skidded around the corner—and was promptly knocked to the ground, a great clanging in his ears, as he collided with a suit of armor.

Or rather, a man _in_ a suit of armor.

Arthur.

* * *

A very pale and sweaty Arthur was making his way back from a _brutal_ training session. Because of the immense pain in his side, he hadn't been as quick as usual, and every small effort sent a new twinge of pain through his system. But Arthur Pendragon was not one to let that stop him.

Now though, training was over, and it was all he could do to keep himself from cringing with each step down the stone corridor. He made sure to walk slowly and steadily. Arthur's spirits lifted when he realized he had only to turn round one more corner and then he'd be just down the hall from his rooms, where he could remove his armor, take a soothing bath, and relax, preferably all with Guinevere's company.

Distracted as he was by this promising thought, Arthur saw nothing more than a flash of color before an impressive force whacked him. Arthur stumbled backwards, crying out in pain at the sudden impact.

The King looked angrily towards his assailant and was stunned to see a very familiar face grinning—though it did seem to be making an effort to adopt a more appropriate _sheepish_ expression—as the man quickly jumped from the floor back to his feet.

"What on _earth_ do you think you're _doing_, Merlin?" Arthur cried, wincing as he stood up straight. At least _now_ Merlin had the grace to look a tiny bit guilty.

"Ah… sorry, Arthur! I didn't mean to run into you."

The untamable smile was back.

"What are you _grinning_ about?" demanded Arthur, feeling rather disgruntled that his manservant had the nerve to be so damn happy when he himself was feeling so poorly.

"What? Nothing!" was the obviously false answer. "I've really got to go, sorry, uh… Gaius needs me. Something really urgent!" Merlin ran off, still grinning.

Shocked, and a bit peeved, Arthur shouted, "_Merlin_!" after him, but it was to no avail; the manservant had already disappeared around another corner.

Scowling, Arthur decided all he could do was go back to his chambers and press Merlin about the matter later. He was still rather annoyed, after all, that Merlin had crashed into him and had still been so _happy_ afterwards! Didn't he know that Arthur was _badly injured_?

Still though, there was a part of Arthur—little though he would admit it out loud—that, no matter the cause, was simply glad to see Merlin so happy. It was nice to see him with a smile like that on his face. Even if it was a rather stupid-looking smile.

Wearing his own grin, Arthur shook his head fondly at his rather odd manservant. Friend.

* * *

Mordred entered his room and closed the door, a vacant expression in his eyes. Today, for perhaps the first time, it had been difficult to maintain his carefully constructed persona around his fellow knights. But he had still managed to do so, of course. Consistency was crucial.

Being now alone in his chambers, Mordred let the act fade away like mist in the wind. He'd felt empty all day, ever since last night when Merlin had walked out on him. What was the use in pretending otherwise, when no one else could see?

Everything had been going fine—Merlin had comforted Mordred in his pain, held Mordred close to him, and then, and _then_, he had responded favorably to the kiss! Mordred had seen the desire alight in Merlin's eyes and felt the affection in his touch. There was no mistake about it. Merlin wouldn't have acted that way, wouldn't have _kissed_ him, if his feelings were not just as real as Mordred's.

But then Merlin had pushed Mordred away. Gotten up and walked out the door, leaving Mordred with a familiar feeling of lonely abandonment.

So instead of dealing with the all-too-painful rejection that the warlock had dealt him, Mordred barred off his emotions. He didn't allow his thoughts to linger on Merlin—not his touch, not his taste, not his tight grip on Mordred's heart. Nothing.

Mordred glanced around himself. He'd been standing motionless in the center of his room for some minutes now, surrounded by the silence. The knight tried to summon the will to remove his uniform, but failed. Just the thought of doing so made him think of Merlin, and all the times that Merlin had—

No. He wasn't going to think about that. He wasn't.

A loud bang jolted Mordred from his stupor. He spun around, stopping dead with shock at the figure there. He wasn't given any time to ponder this strange turn of events, because in mere seconds, Merlin had crossed the room and attached his lips to Mordred's, kissing him passionately.

Mordred's reaction was instantaneous. A blazing fire exploded into being inside of him, devouring the cold emptiness in its uncontrollable flood of warmth. The fire left only Mordred's buried desire and love for Merlin in its wake.

Kissing back with equal fervor, Mordred let a gloved hand grab the back of Merlin's head, holding him close. The other hand held tightly onto Merlin's arm. Merlin placed his own hands on Mordred's hips, yanking him forward, so that their bodies were as close as possible.

Their lips continued to meld with intense heat, moving quickly against each other, continually begging for more. Tongues tangled thrillingly, willing to share dominance rather than battle for it. The—verging on painful—clashing of tongues against teeth, teeth against lips, and lips against an equally wet and tender pair was the sweetest sensation either could remember experiencing. It sent a sizzling bolt of lightning through their veins: if it was pain, it was an addictive kind, one that made them both crave ever more.

Merlin's hands traveled up Mordred's chainmail-covered chest, coming to tenderly hold the other man's neck. He broke the kiss, and both men stood still, panting from the several minute exertion. Their eyes never broke contact.

Merlin could tell that the druid was stunned, and a grin snuck its way onto his cheeks. The doe-eyed deer expression was rather adorable—and yes, alright, _funny_—on the Knight of Camelot's face.

Mordred swallowed, regaining his breath. He wanted to know what on earth had just happened, but he was frightened to ask. Whatever had changed in Merlin, he didn't want to run the risk of changing it back.

"Let me help you with that."

The familiar line shook Mordred free of his thoughts, and he allowed Merlin to begin relieving him of his armor. He was still too overcome for words, but his eyes traced Merlin's every movement. Somehow, Merlin had completely composed himself. The manservant looked no different than any other time that he had assisted Mordred free of his uniform.

"You're looking a bit flushed," commented Merlin. "Everything alright?"

Mordred's jaw dropped open in shock at Merlin's cheek. Merlin's eyes flashed upwards, saw this, and his lips twitched with a barely restrained grin, which soon broke free again. He even seemed to be _chuckling_ about this! Merlin removed Mordred's gloves, set them down, and reached out to remove the chainmail.

"Emrys," said Mordred, grabbing Merlin's hands with his—now bare—own. The warlock's breath hitched, his eyes opening wide at the touch. "I… don't understand." Merlin's eyes softened.

"I'm sorry, Mordred," he said. "I'm so sorry about last night. I… panicked. It wasn't fair to you, but I _know_ now… this is what I want. _You_ are what I want. If you still want the same thing."

A cautious smile blossomed on the younger man's cheeks. "I want that more than anything in the world, Emrys. Surely you know that."

Merlin smiled, amazed at the way his stomach flipped at Mordred's words. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Mordred's in a soft kiss. Mordred savored the tender moment.

"I do now."


	6. I'm Yours

_Author's Note: SPOILER ALERT-This chapter contains spoilers for episode 4 of season 5. Now, enjoy! Please leave a review with any thoughts, comments, complaints, critiques, random anecdotes..._

* * *

Both men were loath to part so quickly. They wished to stay together for hours, talking about anything and everything, and kissing unreservedly. They knew, however, that if Merlin didn't get back to work, there could be trouble.

So after spending a few minutes in which Merlin would repeatedly try to go but would happily allow himself to be pulled back in for a short sweet kiss, Merlin truly took his leave with one last stolen kiss goodbye. Standing in the open doorway, the warlock looked back, a rush of happiness filling him as he observed his lover smiling softly in perfect contentment. The look suited Mordred. If only he wore it more often.

Perhaps now he _would_.

Grinning, Merlin nodded farewell and left.

* * *

Several days passed. Mordred was happier than he could ever remember being, but he hid those feelings away carefully, where none others could get at them. However, _Merlin's_ abnormally happy mood did not go unnoticed by those in the castle. Though no one was displeased with this, those closest to him could not ignore their curiosity.

* * *

Gaius questioned him the third night at dinner.

"Merlin… has something happened that I should know about?"

"Sorry?"

"Well, you've seemed… unusually _happy_ these last few days. Is something going on?"

"What, I'm not allowed to be happy?" asked Merlin teasingly.

"Don't get me wrong, Merlin, I am more pleased than I can say to see you this way—but I just don't understand what's _causing_ it!" the old man exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't know… It's nothing, really. Just… the weather's been pleasant. No one's tried to kill Arthur recently-"

"He was attacked just last week!" interjected Gaius.

"-and everything is just… nice. Maybe it's something in the air!" With that fanciful thought, Merlin whisked away, leaving Gaius even more dumbstruck than before.

* * *

Gwaine questioned Merlin while he was polishing Arthur's armor on the fourth day.

"Hey there, Merlin."

"Gwaine! What are you doing here?" asked a grinning Merlin.

"Well, I just thought I'd stop by, see how you're doing. I feel like I haven't talked to you in ages! Where've you been hiding at?"

"Oh, nowhere. Just the usual. Been busy pampering spoiled kings. You know how it is."

"Well, you tell that princess that he best give you some more free time. Otherwise I'll have to whoop him the next time we have a bout," threatened Gwaine.

Merlin chuckled. "I'll pass on the message."

"So, Merlin…" said Gwaine carefully. "_You've_ seemed to be in rather high spirits lately!"

"…And?" said Merlin, lips curling upwards in amusement.

"Well, you know, not that it's any of my business, but I was hoping you might share."

"It's nothing, really, Gwaine."

"Oh, don't try that with me," the knight objected. "I know you. I can tell. _Some_thing is going on that's suddenly got you smiling and laughing all the time. And believe me, I'm happy for you! I just thought… well, as your friend, you can tell me. I want to know. You don't have to keep it to yourself, if that's what you're doing. We're all glad to see you like this. But… it also feels like you're shutting me out. I can't quite put my finger on it."

Merlin sighed. "… Look, it's just… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shut you out. It's not like that, it's just… It's… Well, if I tell you what it is, will you leave it alone and _not tell the others_?"

"Of course! A man isn't often lucky enough to have a friend like you, Merlin. I'd do anything for you."

Merlin smiled softly. Gwaine truly was a wonderful friend. Perhaps he _did _deserve to know. "Gwaine… thank you. Well… I've been like this because… I'm… in love."

"…. _No_!" gasped the older man.

"You don't have to sound so surprised!"

"Lord, Merlin, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Gwaine, grinning excitedly now. "I didn't mean to be surprised, I just-"

"…you also don't have to be so _gleeful_ about it…" the manservant muttered.

"-never suspected… That's excellent news! Really. I'm happy for you! So who's the lucky lady, eh?" Gwaine gave Merlin a friendly nudge, followed by a devilish wink.

"Uh, no. Sorry. That's all the information you're getting."

"Oh, come on, tell me! You can't just tease me like that!"

"I can, and I am. Sorry, but that bit's going to stay with me."

Gwaine made a face at his friend. "…Well, alright. I'm still very happy for you, even if you won't give me a name. I wish you all the luck in the world, Merlin. And remember, I'm always here, if you want to chat. Or share a drink."

"Thanks, Gwaine. And thanks for asking."

"Anytime." Gwaine left the room with a grin on his face, and Merlin stayed behind with a lopsided one of his own.

* * *

Arthur waited until the fifth day to question his manservant. Arthur's eyes followed Merlin about the room as he tidied up, smiling and humming to himself.

"Alright. Spit it out."

"What?"

"Whatever it is that's made you so cheerful recently. Out with it."

"I don't know what you mean, sire," was the innocent reply.

"Rubbish. You've been smiling brightly enough to give me _headaches_ for nearly the past _week_. It's like having the damn _sun_ doing my chores!" the King growled. "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Nothing, Arth-"

"_Tell me._"

"Do you have to be such a nosy prat about _every_thing?" Merlin threw back.

"Well perhaps if you worked on not being such an open book, I _wouldn't_ be. You're painfully easy to read, Merlin, honestly."

Merlin tried not to roll his eyes. Oh, the things that Arthur was blissfully unaware of…

"Just because I don't try to hide my emotions doesn't mean you automatically have a right to know exactly what's causing them," he lectured.

"I'm the King!"

"King or not, you're still a nosy prat."

Arthur's expression softened, even seeming a bit melancholy. "…Well then how about this. I'm your _friend_, Merlin. Now why won't you tell me the truth?"

"It's not important."

"It's important to _me_."

"_Why_?" pressed the warlock.

"It just- It is! I need to know!" Arthur exclaimed. He signed, rubbing his forehead. "Look… I care about you, Merlin. I want you to be open with me. _I_ am with _you_."

A pang of guilt struck Merlin in the heart. "It's… Arthur, it's boring, I swear-"

"Then just tell me-"

"Fine. Alright. It's love," he cut in, admitting the truth quickly, too tired to keep playing games. "Happy? That's what's got me in such a good mood."

"…Love?"

"Yes."

"You?"

"No, Gaius. Yes of _course_ me!" was the sarcastic answer.

"And… this girl… she loves you as well, I presume?"

"Well… not exactly…"

"_What_? Then what have you been so chipper about?" he cried.

"No, I mean… Yes, they love me back," Merlin said simply.

"But… You _just_ _said_…"

"Arthur? Leave it."

"Wha- No! What did you mean, then, when you said 'not exactly'?" demanded the King, refusing to back down.

"I meant that it isn't a girl!" snapped Merlin.

Merlin's eyes shot wide open and his jaw clenched shut, but the words had already been spoken. His heart pounded in fear as he watched Arthur for his reaction.

Arthur's eyes had similarly widened, and his eyebrows were in the middle of his forehead.

"…Not a girl?"

"No."

"It's a man?"

"No, an ogre. _Yes of course it's a man_! I swear, if you keep doing that-"

"Sorry! I'm… sorry, Merlin," said Arthur, oddly sincere. "I was just taken a bit by surprise. Heaven knows why, it certainly explains some of your odder habits."

"What? What are you-"

"No normal man wears dresses, Merlin," Arthur explained, as if to a simpleton.

"But I never-!"

"Then there's the way you dress _normally_ of course-"

"_What's wrong with how I dress_?"

"-and you've always seemed a bit girlish, to be honest," he concluded. "You're scared of practically everything, you've always been a bit too affectionate, and the first excuse that comes to your mind is reading poetry… Don't worry, Merlin. I don't think any less of you."

"I'm so relieved."

"You're still my same clumsy, idiotic servant." Arthur grinned affectionately at Merlin, and was rewarded with a smile that Merlin couldn't hold back, no matter how hard he tried.

"And you're still a clotpole," he shot back sassily.

"And your _King_."

"Sorry? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your abnormally large ego."

"Come here, Merlin!" Arthur chased Merlin around the room, both men grinning exuberantly at the friendly chase.

* * *

_Apparently it was Arthur's turn to lead the inquisition today,_ said Merlin. On the other side of the castle, Mordred smiled in amusement.

Ever since they had established their romantic relationship, Merlin had gone around smiling constantly, ready to beam or laugh at the slightest thing.

Mordred loved it. The warlock was even more gorgeous than usual when he was so cheerful, and it of course made Mordred's stomach flutter happily to know that he was the cause of Merlin's mood. Of course, he'd known it was only a matter of time before everyone else noticed, and indeed they had. Merlin had already told him about Gaius' dinner conversation and Gwaine's unexpected visit. It was about _time_ that the King spoke up as well.

_And what did you tell him_? the druid asked.

_The truth. Most of it anyways._

_Did you tell him about me?_

_No, but he knows that it's a man_, explained Merlin._ That makes a tally of two people._

_Two?_

_Gwen being the first, when I went to her for advice._

_Ah yes, of course, _Mordred replied._ And how did Arthur take it?_

_Really well, actually. I mean, he teased me some, but that's just how he is_, said Merlin, a fondness in his tone. _I expected as much._

_Well. Just so long as he doesn't try to steal you for himself_, he teased. Mordred wished he could have heard the laugh that he was sure Merlin gave.

_I don't think that's part of his plans. And don't worry. I'm all yours._

* * *

Midday sunlight streamed through the windows on the side of the castle. Merlin walked down the hallway, carrying a tray of silverware away from Arthur's chambers.

_Look down._

Merlin stopped in his tracks, confused. He glanced around at the silent stones.

_I said _down._ Try the window._

Grinning, Merlin turned and peered through the window. Sure enough, in the courtyard below stood the young knight, smiling up at him. Merlin's heart flipped as he pushed open the panes of glass. He leaned against the wall, gazing down out the open window.

_Hi_, he said simply. Mordred's smile stretched even further.

_Hello._

_Did you need something?_ asked Merlin, raising an eyebrow teasingly. _I've got chores to do, you know. Not all of us have the luxury of standing around hitting other people with sticks all day long._

_I just wanted to see the bright and shining face of the man I love,_ returned Mordred. _Is that too much to ask?_

_No, I suppose not_, Merlin said, beaming again.

_Excellent. Could you fetch him for me then?_

_Cheeky prat._

Mordred's laugh floated on the air up to Merlin's ear, and his heart warmed at the familiar sound, the one that still made him picture a burbling stream.

Mordred's eyes were trained on the figure in the window above him. Even from this angle, Merlin was beautiful. His wide gleaming smile, his well-cut form—just everything about him.

_You know my heart belongs to you_, he appeased, _And it always will. I would serenade you, but I seem to have forgotten to bring a flower._

_Well. It wouldn't be proper serenading without a flower_, agreed Merlin with an expression of mock disappointment. _I expected more from you, Mordred._

_I'll do better next time._

_You had better bring a whole bouquet. Otherwise I just might not forgive you._

_A bouquet it is, then. Would you like roses, Emrys? Or perhaps daisies, to best befit the radiance of your smile?_

Merlin's cheeks gained a faint blush. _I suppose that part can be your choice._

_Very gracious of you._ Mordred swept him a low formal bow. His mouth pulling upwards in an amused smile, Merlin's blush furiously increased as he noticed Mordred receiving odd looks from some of the passerby in the courtyard.

"Merlin!"

Merlin nearly leapt out of his skin, jolting towards the familiar voice. Predictably, the silverware went clattering to the floor. Merlin grimaced as Arthur rolled his eyes. The manservant immediately set to work picking everything up.

"Sorry, did you need something, Arthur?"

"No… I just saw you standing here loafing about with that stupid smile on your face, while you _should_ be _working._ What were you looking at? Or… who?" Seeming to connect the dots, Arthur strode to the window with purpose as Merlin weakly protested,

"No-nothing! It's just a beautiful day-!"

But it was too late. Arthur was already peering down into the courtyard. Rising with the tray now reset, Merlin took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. This was it. Arthur knew. There was no way anyone could misunderstand this, not even him. Merlin prepared himself for an awkward confrontation as Arthur turned back around.

"Alright, you were telling the truth." Stunned, Merlin forced himself to exhale normally. "In that case, stop daydreaming and get back to your chores, Merlin!"

"Y-Yes, sire! Sorry."

Arthur shook his head one last time and walked off. Merlin broke free from his shock and rushed to the window, sticking his head out.

Mordred was nowhere to be seen.

Smiling with relief, Merlin called out, _Nicely done. Thanks. _He closed the window and picked up the tray, once more making his way down the hallway.

_I felt it best to remove myself from sight when you jumped two feet into the air._

Merlin scowled.

_It wasn't even _one _foot!_

_Two feet_, repeated the druid stubbornly, his tone playful. Merlin chuckled.

_Whatever you say, Mordred._

* * *

Mordred paused, the tip of his charcoal hovering just above the paper. There was a strange tingling sensation in his mind. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, simply present. And oddly familiar… But he couldn't quite place it. He rose from his chair and went to the door. It creaked as it opened.

Mordred could hear noises outside, but they were very faint. Something was going on in a different part of the castle. He closed the door again.

_Emrys?_

There was no response. Mordred's heart began to pound anxiously. Had something happened? Was Merlin injured in some way?

Just as he prepared to run to Gaius' rooms—then to Arthur's if need be—in the search for Merlin, a voice echoed in his mind saying, _Hold on._

Mordred exhaled a relieved breath. Merlin was alright then, just preoccupied. _With what?_ he wondered. But he nonetheless returned to his previous occupation, waiting to hear from Merlin again.

The young man was surprised when, a short time later, he was greeted by a knock at the door rather than a quiet voice inside his head. He hurriedly put his papers away.

"Come in."

Merlin entered, looking rather solemn.

"What news?" asked Mordred.

"The Princess Mithian is here, along with her maid, Hilda," said Merlin. "Mithian is… not doing well. She'll recover, but she was freezing and exhausted when she got here."

"Why is she here?"

"We don't know. She wasn't in any shape to talk, and Hilda was too concerned about her mistress to be any help in that area either. Arthur's eager to speak to Mithian, but Gaius said we must wait until tomorrow. There'll likely be a small court gathering in the morning."

"I see," said Mordred. "Well. It seems there is not much we can do for the time being, then."

"No, there isn't." Merlin sighed. "I suppose I should get back to Gaius. I just really wanted to see you."

"You wouldn't leave without a kiss, would you, Emrys?" teased Mordred softly. Merlin's lips quirked into a grin and he stepped forward, gingerly placing a hand on Mordred's cheek as he pressed their lips together.

"You always call me Emrys," Merlin murmured when he pulled back from the kiss, smiling. "You do actually know that my name is Merlin, right?" His eyes twinkled in jest.

"I prefer Emrys," was the simple response.

"Why?" asked Merlin, just as serious. He'd been curious about this for quite a long time.

"When I look at you, I see the boy you were, the man you are, and the legend you will become. Those who see only what you are or what you have been may call you Merlin, but among the druids, this person—this boy, man, and legend—has, and always shall be, known as Emrys. That is who you are to me. Merlin is good, but Emrys… is great. It is Emrys I love."

Indeed, Mordred's blue eyes shone clearly with that love. The feeling overwhelmed Merlin, and he did not know quite what to say. Bliss consumed him.

"I… Thank you, Mordred," Merlin whispered. Mordred smiled softly in understanding and stepped closer to his lover. Delicate hands were placed on the older man's waist, and two hearts pounded faster as their bodies were pressed close together.

Their lips met in a soft kiss. It quickly grew in intensity, and soon Merlin's hands were fisted in Mordred's hair and Mordred was biting down on Merlin's lip in a way that made him hiss with pleasure.

Mordred pressed forward, slamming Merlin against the door. Mordred trailed slow kisses down Merlin's jawline to his neck. He returned his lips to Merlin's with force. A shiver echoed through the druid's body as Merlin slipped his hands under his shirt, placing them on Mordred's bare back and stomach.

By this point, Merlin knew that he was quickly developing a problem down below. As much as he didn't want to, he withdrew his hands and placed them against Mordred's shoulders, pushing him back slightly. A flicker of fear flashed through Mordred's eyes, as though scared that Merlin was pushing him away just like last time.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to stop, I _really_ don't, but I should really get going. If I don't leave _now_, I'm going to have a, um, bit of a problem," admitted Merlin, blushing. Mordred just smirked, pressing his body flush against Merlin's, making the older man gasp at the touch. This _really_ wasn't helping.

"Why not stay here tonight?" Mordred whispered seductively in his ear. Merlin groaned. It was incredibly hard to resist when Mordred dropped into his lower range like that. It had to be the goddamn sexiest thing Merlin had ever heard. Taking a deep breath in, he gained control of himself and once more pushed Mordred backwards.

"I'd love to, but I really think I should stay with Gaius tonight. Just in case something happens with Mithian. I don't want Gaius to wake up and need me, and have me gone."

Reluctantly, Mordred stepped backwards, smirking a little when Merlin released a visible shuddering breath, his body starting to calm down from its excited state.

"Another time then."

Merlin smiled gently, and replied, "Yes. Another time, I promise." He leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

The next day, Mithian told her story to the King. Since Mordred could not be present, Merlin spent the meeting speaking to him telepathically, passing on all the details that Mithian was sharing.

Mordred's stomach twisted a little, as he perceived a strong tone of concern for the princess in Merlin's voice. It didn't just sound like the normal concern one might feel for someone in distress: it felt much more personal, much closer to Merlin's heart. Mordred hated the feelings it was creating within him and chided himself for being ridiculous, and so said nothing of them to Merlin.

Unfortunately, Merlin was tied up the rest of the day, between a meeting with Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, and some of the knights and then preparing for the journey that would begin at dawn the next day.

But that evening, when Merlin delivered Gaius' draft to Hilda, a strange sensation overtook him. He could tell that something wasn't right, but Gaius brushed his fears aside. Merlin silenced them briefly as he helped Gaius finish the preparations for the ride. It was hours before Gaius finally went to sleep.

When he did, Merlin carefully snuck out the front door, and quickly made his way through the halls to a very familiar room. Mordred let him in immediately.

"We're riding out first thing in the morning," he told the knight. "To rescue King Rodor before Odin's men find him."

"Any chance I'll merit an invitation?" asked Mordred dryly. He already knew the answer. He'd been open with Merlin before about how it bothered him that Arthur hadn't accepted him yet into the top ranks of the knights. Hunting the simurgh was one thing (though that mission had garnered more severe results than predicted), but Mordred had never been allowed into the private council meetings or on the undertakings that Arthur expected serious trouble on, like this one.

Merlin made a sympathetic face, and placed a hand on Mordred's cheek, leaning forward to kiss him lightly.

"It'll happen in time, I promise. You just have to be patient. You're still one of the greenest knights."

"I know, I just… It gets so boring, not being allowed to do anything serious. Why did I become a knight if I'm not considered worthy enough to join the others on any dangerous missions?"

"To be honest, I'm not even sure that the rest of us should be going on this one," admitted Merlin. Mordred looked at him confusedly.

"What do you mean?"

"I just… have a feeling. Something's wrong, I _know_ it is. There's something we don't know. That may sound silly, but…"

"Not at all. You should trust your instincts, Emrys."

"That's what _I_ think, but Gaius doesn't seem to agree with me."

"Well then you must tell Arthur," said Mordred.

"I will, but I doubt it'll do any good. It never does. He'll still go, something bad will happen, and I'll have to save his life, as usual. Unless… something happens that even I can't handle."

"Don't think like that," said Mordred firmly, grasping Merlin's arms tightly. "Whatever happens, you _will_ be able to keep Arthur safe. Besides, you'll have a whole band of knights at your side, with the exact same purpose. Just… make sure that you come home safely as well. You are just as important as Arthur. More important, to me."

Merlin met Mordred's gaze, both men equally solemn. The terrible idea of something happening to Merlin had permeated their thoughts, filling the room with painful melancholy. Resisting the urge to cry, Merlin crushed his lips to Mordred's. They kissed, full of need, for several long minutes.

"Don't worry, Mordred," whispered Merlin reassuringly, pulling Mordred into a tight embrace. "I'll always come home to you."

* * *

The knights were readying themselves for the ride ahead when Mordred came rushing down the steps, all decked out in his knight's uniform. His eyes instinctively glanced towards Merlin—and his insides burned as he saw his lover's gaze directed towards the princess. Doing his best to ignore this, Mordred ran to Arthur's side. Arthur turned to him, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Please, milord," the young knight said quickly, "Allow me to join you on this mission." Arthur's features became soft and sympathetic. Mordred growled internally.

"Not today, Mordred."

"But, sire-"

"The answer is no," said Arthur firmly. Reaching out, he clapped a supportive hand on Mordred's shoulder. "You are a fine knight, Mordred. And your day will come soon. But this is not the day; our mission is too grave. I'm sorry."

"I would be an asset, milord, I swear it!" pleaded Mordred, though he knew the case was hopeless. "I am worthy of riding at your side! You let me once before, with the simurgh. Why not now?"

"That was a _bird_. Admittedly one of great size, but I did not truly anticipate much danger. This is _entirely_ different. We are crossing the border into enemy lands to rescue King Rodor before Odin's men find him and kill him. If I'm caught, I'm risking war. This is a manhunt, Mordred, not a bird hunt. And I'm sorry, but you aren't ready, not yet. Soon."

With that, Arthur mounted his horse and cantered off to the front of the group, ready to lead them off. Mordred's heart sunk like a rock into the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of staying behind, knowing the potential dangers like he did! How could he just sit at home and wait for Merlin to return? It would be sheer torture! He wanted to be out there with them, by their sides. _There_ would he be able to protect both his lover and his king.

Mordred's eyes flicked desperately towards Arthur's manservant. Merlin was already looking his way, his blue eyes filled with worry and sympathy. Mordred swallowed a lump in his throat.

The thundering of horse hooves echoed in the courtyard, with Arthur leading everyone out. Merlin trotted off about halfway through the group, still looking back over his shoulder as he rode away.

_I love you, Mordred_.

With that, the warlock spun around and, with a flick of his reins, broke into a full gallop. Mordred stumbled backwards against the stone steps, aware only of the sight of the disappearing men and the thunderous beating of his own heart.

Insides vacant, he made his way back into the castle and promptly shut himself in his rooms.

* * *

The next day was one of painful endurance for Mordred. He paced his rooms nervously, not able to sit still long enough to do anything of use, and not able to focus his mind enough to train. He imagined that he would not be at rest again until Merlin and the others returned, safe and sound. Though truly, Mordred cared very little about anyone other than Merlin and Arthur. Perhaps Sir Elyan. He seemed more tolerable than the rest of the knights.

Normally he would not feel so anxious, but he had meant what he said. Merlin's instincts were nothing to be ignored, and if Merlin felt so hesitant about the mission, so did Mordred. Also, there was something else nagging at his brain.

Now that it was gone, Mordred's thoughts drifted back to the tingling that he'd felt in his mind when Mithian had first arrived. It had remained a constant presence in his mind for the day that she had remained. Now that he was truly thinking on it, it only added to his worry. It certainly wasn't normal.

_Why didn't I think more on it at the time? Why didn't I try to find what it was about? _he asked himself angrily. But in all honesty, he knew why. He'd been distracted. Distracted by jealous thoughts of the Princess Mithian, and wondering if Merlin harbored any feelings for her.

Mordred cursed at himself for allowing such a stupid thing to cloud his thoughts. Unfortunately, now that the source of the sensation was clearly gone, he was at a loss. There was no way for him to investigate the meaning of it, and so he remained in the dark, still furious with himself for making such a juvenile mistake.

* * *

The sound of galloping horses sent Mordred flying out of his room and down the corridors, in the direction of the courtyard.

_It's alright, I'm fine._ The quiet voice from floors below made Mordred stumble to a halt. As relief flooded into him, his limbs began to tremble and he leaned against the wall, forcing himself to breathe normally. _Wait for me in your rooms. I'll be there soon._

Mordred obeyed Merlin's orders, and sure enough, Merlin was in his chambers mere minutes later.

A second rush of relief hit Mordred as he saw that Merlin was perfectly intact in one piece. Rushing to the warlock, he pulled him into a fierce embrace, one that Merlin returned just as enthusiastically.

"What happened?" he asked. "Did everything go as planned?"

Merlin winced. "I wouldn't say that, no… It was a trap. We were set up by Morgana."

"_Morgana_?!" The pieces of the puzzle began to click inside Mordred's head.

"She was disguised as Hilda the whole time, using some sort of aging spell. I knew, I _knew_ that something was off with her. When we stopped to take rest for a while, I was helping Mithian dismount her horse [was it just Merlin's imagination, or did Mordred tense a bit?] when I noticed a burn mark around her wrist. I asked her how she got it and suddenly, Hilda was standing right there, and Mithian said something about Odin's men having caught her before she escaped. I was so sure that something was going on, I just didn't know what.

"But then, shortly after, Mithian asked me to refill her water. So I went to the stream and I did, but when I glanced up, I saw a stone with the word 'Morgana' engraved on it. Mithian was trying to warn me, and I-"

"Why _you_?" interrupted Mordred, trying to mask his agitation. Merlin was confused, stunned really.

"I- What do you mean?"

"Out of everyone, why did she choose to warn _you_? Surely one would think that a Knight of Camelot would be a wiser choice, unless they knew of your true powers. If I'm not mistaken, she is unaware of them."

"Yes, but… I don't know. She trusted me. I guess she realized that I was more suspicious than anyone else." Merlin looked baffled as Mordred turned his head, looking away. "Mordred… what's wrong?"

Mordred forced himself to turn back and meet Merlin's eyes. He smiled falsely, saying, "Nothing. I'm sorry. Continue your story, please."

"No, tell me," Merlin requested softly. Tenderly, he reached out and took one of Mordred's hands in his own. Mordred's jaw clenched again and he released a tense breath.

"It's just… You seemed so… _concerned_… about Mithian while she was here. The way you spoke of her, and the way I saw you looking at her, I became worried that…

"And what you've just told me, now. About helping her down from the horse. Why you? And then it seems that she chose you as her most reliable confidant, as being more trustworthy than any of the others. For a princess to think that way about a servant is… uncommon, and it just makes me wonder if…"

"Wonder if… what?" said Merlin, still failing to understand. Mordred said nothing, just stared deep into Merlin's eyes. Finally, the pieces clicked together in the warlock's mind.

"You… were jealous? Of Mithian?" he said, a surprised smile breaking across his lips. Mordred looked stoically at him.

"Yes. Was I right to be?"

Merlin released a bright laugh, quickly coming forward to press his lips against Mordred's. He kissed him passionately, leaving no doubt about his feelings. Mordred moaned, returning the kiss just as fervently.

When they broke apart, Merlin was grinning and Mordred smiled shyly back at him.

"Not at all. I think it's sweet that you were, but believe me, Mordred… I'm yours. And no one else is going to change that."

"I wish I hadn't allowed myself to become so distracted by those emotions," admitted Mordred. "You see… there is a bond, between Morgana and I." Merlin looked less than pleased by this, but kept his mouth shut. "I should have known that she was here. I even felt her, in my mind. I felt her presence like a slight tingling inside my head, though slightly… off from usual, no doubt because her aging spell concealed some of who she truly was. Had I not been so preoccupied with jealous thoughts, I may have realized the truth of the situation in time to warn Arthur and prevent all this. I should be blamed for all that happened."

"No, you can't blame yourself," Merlin disagreed. "We were all taken in by her disguise. We both could have done more, I suppose, but… well, it can't be helped now. Everyone's fine, and we did all we could. Now we'll just be more aware should she try anything like this again."

"I doubt that she will. Morgana may be many things, but senseless she is not. It would be impressively foolish to try the same ruse again." Merlin sighed, knowing that Mordred spoke the truth. "But now, you must finish telling me all that happened today."

Merlin nodded, and resumed his story.


	7. Learning to Accept Love

_Author's Note: A big thank you to all my reviewers! Your support is hugely appreciated. Please remember to leave a review after reading, everybody. Any and all comments, critiques, etc. are encouraging and helpful. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have as well (though you have to ask them from a signed-in account so that I can PM you). Thanks for reading! __Enjoy this latest installment._

* * *

The rest of Merlin's tale shocked, pained, and outraged Mordred in turns. To hear of Morgana's attack on the warlock, which Merlin had been unable to repel because he was taken by surprise, made his stomach twist anxiously. He found this rather absurd, seeing as Merlin was clearly fine now, but he couldn't help it. It hurt to hear of Merlin in that situation.

The description of Arthur's betrayal by Mithian was painful as well. But then, hearing of Merlin's miraculous save in the nick of time, Mordred was filled to the brim with incredulity.

"A sudden earthquake just _happened_ to occur at the perfect moment, a few seconds later you show up, and Arthur _still_ doesn't even _guess_ at the truth?" he said, dumbstruck. Merlin just chuckled a bit.

"Trust me, you get used to it. He's always been this blind. It's certainly not anything new."

Merlin continued, telling how they ran for it, how their group broke apart and Arthur confronted Odin.

"But what became of Morgana?" interjected Mordred confusedly.

"Back in the tomb, she tried to follow us, so I sent her flying backwards into the wall. She was knocked unconscious, certainly. It was a pretty hard blow."

Mordred nodded and allowed Merlin to continue. He responded with the appropriate level of enthusiasm at Merlin's triumph in getting Arthur and Odin to make a truce. When Merlin spoke of how easily Arthur had forgiven Mithian, Mordred made his considerably less forgiving sentiments known, claiming that no matter what he said, Arthur would _never_ have acted the same in her place. Merlin's lips may have a twitched a bit then, but altogether he was much more sympathetic with the princess than Mordred was willing to be, especially since, as he pointed out, she did in fact try to warn them.

But through all this, Mordred's mind stayed fixed on Morgana.

Based off what Merlin had said of her aging spell draining her power, followed by the formidable physical blow Merlin had dealt her, Morgana had to be exhausted. She would have to spend some time regaining her strength, of both a magical and physical nature. Even better, with the new truce between Arthur and Odin, she had lost her most recent ally. If Mordred sought her out now, she would be alone and quite helpless. Perhaps the time had finally come.

Excitement at the prospect raced through him. Ever since the simurgh had deposited a very specific memory of Morgana's hideaway cave in his mind, he had been searching for just such an opportunity as this one. It was nigh on impossible to catch Morgana at a time when she was both without an ally and too weak to attack. This seemed to be the perfect moment.

Tomorrow, Mordred would make his move.

* * *

A knock at the door woke Arthur from his musings. He frowned. His first thought was, _Merlin _just_ left, why is he back already?_ But when the person outside his chambers didn't enter without permission, his confusion cleared. It obviously wasn't Merlin. He should have guessed as much just based on the fact that the person was knocking at _all_.

"Come in," Arthur called out. The door opened, admitting his youngest knight. Arthur's eyebrows rose in silent surprise. Mordred came to stand calmly in front of his King.

"If this is about yesterday's mission-" Arthur began cautiously.

"No, milord, it is not," interrupted Mordred. "Though I would like to apologize for my behavior. I should not have acted as I did. I only wished to be of service to you." Mordred's contrite tone brought a proud smile to Arthur's face. At times, Mordred displayed maturity far beyond his years. Arthur liked that about him.

"You're forgiven, Mordred," he assured. "You are shaping up to be an excellent knight, and I admire your ambition. Trust me, I remember well how it was when _I_ was still too young for my father to allow me on similar quests. I promise, your chance is coming."

Mordred smiled graciously, offering humble thanks.

"My lord, I have a favor to ask of you," he said, straight to the point. "Will you hear me?"

"Certainly," returned Arthur politely. "What is it?"

A flicker of emotion crossed Mordred's face—embarrassment, if Arthur were to wager a guess. His brow contracted once more, wondering what could be unsettling the younger man.

"I… would like to ask your permission to leave the city, ride out into the forest for the remainder of the afternoon."

"Well I imagine that can be arranged. Why? Where is it you need to go?"

"Nowhere in particular, milord. It's just that…" Mordred's discomfort increased. "…ever since the incident with the simurgh, I've on occasion felt… less than well. I'm afraid it has left a bit of a mark on me."

"I see," said Arthur. "I apologize, I did not realize that any ill effects still plagued you."

"Please, there is no need for you to apologize!" assured Mordred fiercely. "You jumped in front of that beast for me. Rather, it is _I _who should apologize to _you_ for any injuries you sustained in my place."

"It's no longer of any importance. Let us leave the matter behind us." Arthur gave a friendly smile, and Mordred responded with one of his own, a bit timid, as usual. "Back to these occasional pains, have you gone to Gaius?"

"I do not believe that Gaius would be of much help to me," said Mordred quietly. "My pains are of a much more mental nature, and the only physical effect is slight sickness. Some days are easier than others and I… well, being a druid, I know that it would set my mind at ease to be within the cover of the trees, even if just for a short time. I am at present feeling particularly unwell, and a short ride would bring me peace, I am sure of it."

"Of course. I understand, Mordred. Wear your uniform so that the guards will let you back into the city after dark, in case you do not return by nightfall."

"Thank you, Arthur. This means a great deal to me."

"Just try not to stay out too late. And when you come back, I would like you to see Gaius about this. He's capable of doing more than you might think."

Mordred bowed his acceptance and started towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "There is… one more thing I would ask of you."

"Yes?"

"If… my absence is noted… could the true reason for it remain between us? I do not wish to appear weak to my fellow knights."

Arthur smiled fondly at the soft-spoken, shy young man. Wanting not to appear weak was a concern he could empathize with. "You have my word. Though… I don't think anyone here could make the mistake of thinking you weak."

Surprised eyes flashed to Arthur, and Mordred quickly nodded his head, evidently too surprised or overcome by the subtle praise to say anything more. Soon, the quiet druid knight had slipped out the door, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts again.

* * *

Mordred inhaled deeply. The forest truly was like a home to him, and he reveled in the smell of the damp leaves and the tug of the wind on his cape as the horse galloped across the land. The druid knew that it would still be more than an hour before he arrived at his destination, but he didn't mind. He was content merely to ride and surround himself with all the pleasures of nature. Morgana's location was locked firmly in his mind, courtesy of the simurgh and Mordred's previous knowledge of these woods. It would be easy to find her.

Soon enough, Mordred found that he had come to the end of his journey. He slowed the horse to a steady walking pace as he stared at the moss-covered exterior of the cave. Sadness washed over him that Morgana had been reduced to hiding in such holes.

Taking a deep breath, Mordred rode into the mouth of the cave.

* * *

Morgana added a few more sticks to the fire. Doing such menial work made her growl with frustration, but it was a necessity. She wished to build up her strength as quickly as possible, and that didn't allow for using her powers to start and maintain fires, not when she could do so easily without magic.

An unfamiliar sound at the cave's entrance made Morgana's head snap up. If push came to shove, she was sure she could handle any opponent, but she'd rather not be forced to: it just might drain her of all her magical reserves. Besides, her concentration was rather shot to hell due to the ringing headache she'd had since being hurled against a wall the day before.

The now discernible clatter of echoing horse hooves seemed to vibrate in the air around her. Morgana hurriedly stood, facing the direction of the intruder. A moment later, a horse and rider appeared from around the turn. Recognizing the face instantly—it had, after all, been prominent in both her dreams and nightmares of late—Morgana was flooded with intense hurt, rage, and, though she tried to ignore it, fear.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" snapped the sorceress.

"I came to see you," the man replied simply. Mordred dismounted, and Morgana's sight focused in on his blood-red cape.

"A knight of Camelot now, I see," she sneered.

"Arthur rewards those who are loyal to him."

Mordred walked forward, coming closer to Morgana's fire. A crazed look swam in her eyes.

"If you come any closer, you'll die," she threatened viciously. Controlling her fear, a characteristic smirk flashed across her face. "In fact, I may just kill you from here."

"Please, don't try, Morgana. You're still weak," said the knight calmly. "But why are you threatening me?"

"You tried to kill me," was the cold answer.

"No… I _could_ have killed you, but I meant only to wound you. I succeeded."

"What do you take me for, a fool?"

"I did it for your own good."

"My own good?" she cried incredulously. She released a mirthless laugh. "That is the most unlikely defense I've ever heard! And believe me, Arthur invented some utterly ridiculous excuses as a boy when he got in trouble with Uther."

"I'm telling you the truth, Morgana. I would never truly betray you," said Mordred.

"Oh, I _must_ hear this," the witch laughed in bitter amusement. "Pray tell how sticking a _knife_ into my side and saving Arthur's worthless life was for my benefit."

"If you had killed Arthur at that moment, you would not have made it out of Ismere alive, I can guarantee you that."

"Please. As if those knights of Camelot are any real match for me."

"Not the knights, no. But there is one who _is_," he answered. Morgana met his eyes confusedly, feeling doubt for the first time. She waited for Mordred to continue, but he did not, he merely held her gaze intently. Understanding—and fear—suddenly crept into her expression.

"Emrys." The low whisper seemed to fade away with the breeze.

The druid nodded. "He was there that day."

"How could you possibly know that?" demanded Morgana, anger seeping into her voice once more as her heart pounded in fright at the idea of her doom.

"I sensed his presence. Believe me when I tell you that had you succeeded in killing Arthur, you would never have seen another sunrise. I could not let that happen."

"Then why did you not say so? Why did you not _warn_ me?" she snapped. "Rather than _stabbing_ me, you might have just told me then what you are telling me now!"

"No, Morgana. If I had done that, I could never have earned Arthur's trust. I wouldn't be where I am now. Don't you see what you've gained? A spy in the royal house of Camelot, to replace the one you'd lost."

"What do you know of that?"

"And I am even better than she was," continued Mordred, ignoring her question. "I am a knight of Camelot. The king trusts me completely. I am much closer to him than your servant-girl ever could have been."

"How do you expect me to trust a word you say, Mordred?" she asked. Her intent was to sound dangerous, but she could not veil her sadness and pain. "You betrayed me, just like all the others."

Mordred was filled with compassion at her words, but he took care not to show it to Morgana. "There's a bond between us," he replied, "There has been ever since we met and you hid me in your chambers. I know you feel it too. Trust in that."

Morgana didn't speak a word. He was right; the bond was very present, and it cried for her to _trust _him, to _trust _the druid boy that she had once loved. But the betrayal was too fresh in her mind. She couldn't come to a decision.

"It hurts to be betrayed by someone you love, doesn't it?" Mordred said softly. "Just think, now you understand how Arthur has felt all these years." At this, Morgana's eyes flashed with a myriad of emotions. Mordred saw flickers of anger and hate, but promisingly, also a flicker of guilt.

"Not that it matters of course," he continued calmly, before Morgana could collect her thoughts well enough to make any sort of reply to that claim. "Arthur is our enemy now."

"_My _enemy," the High Priestess corrected scathingly. "Arthur is more a friend to you, I believe."

"Then you are wrong," said Mordred harshly. "You must trust me. I only want to help you. Why else would I be here?"

"How should _I_ know? Perhaps you're _spying_ for my dear brother," she returned briskly. As the words left her lips, it seemed that they were occurring to her for the first time. Her eyes widened and she straightened up. "In fact, that's _exactly_ what you're doing, _isn't_ it?"

"If Arthur knew where you were there would be an army of knights at your door, not me," the druid stated dryly, if a tad impatiently. "You know Arthur well enough to remember that he is a far cry from clever. He is not the sort of man to work through spies. He prefers direct confrontation. Combat. Metal over mind." His words had the desired calming effect.

"Very well. Not a spy then. But I still have no reason to trust you."

"I wish you would, Morgana," he said softly, allowing a hint of sadness into his tone. "I have only ever loved you."

Morgana was taken aback. _I have only ever loved you… _It had been so long since she had truly cared about anyone, and yet here was this young man, grown up so much since she knew him as a boy, and he was offering her his love. Mordred was one of the very few people that Morgana had still loved even after she turned against Uther and everyone else she had known in Camelot.

The feeling was overwhelming. She had completely forgotten what love felt like. But she could see its sincerity in Mordred's eyes. And she wanted to accept his love, she did, she truly did, and offer her own in return. It would be a blessing to once more have someone to care about, someone to be loyal to. There had been no such person in her life since Morgause had died. Such a long time…

"I believe you," she finally managed to say. The sweet relieved smile on Mordred's face forced a hesitant one onto her own as well. Yes. That felt right. Her smile broadened, and it suddenly felt as if nothing bad had happened between them. She felt just as happy to be in his presence as she had been at the Fortress of Ismere when she'd first spotted him.

"Will you trust me then?" he asked quietly. Morgana grinned, nodding her head.

"Yes. Yes, I trust you, Mordred," she answered happily. Morgana was surprised, but not at all unhappy, when Mordred reached out and pulled her into a warm embrace. She held him just as tightly.

"Thank you, Morgana," Mordred murmured into her dark hair. He drew away and looked her in the eyes. "Regrettably, I must go now. If I'm not back to the castle soon-"

"I understand," interrupted Morgana kindly. "You should go." Mordred nodded gratefully.

"I'll be back to see you soon."

"I look forward to it," she promised.

With one last smile, Mordred mounted his horse and sped away towards the heart of Camelot.

* * *

Merlin slowly paced the floor of Mordred's rooms. He was beginning to feel anxious. Mordred had been gone all afternoon and it was now well into the evening, and Merlin had no idea why or where he had disappeared to. All attempts at reaching out to the druid's mind had failed, indicating that he was indeed well outside the castle walls. Merlin thought of asking Arthur, but he didn't care to risk Arthur noticing his particular interest in Mordred's whereabouts.

This was all just so strange. Where could Mordred have gone? Why wouldn't he tell Merlin first?

Merlin wanted to believe that he was only concerned out of love, worry for the wellbeing of the other man, but a deeper and darker part of his heart recognized the lie. He knew that, despite his agreement to forego all preconceptions of Mordred, and even despite the fact that he was unarguably in love with the druid knight, there was still that part of him, the seed of doubt in his mind, that distrusted Mordred. Even if, as Gwen had suggested, his _heart_ trusted Mordred, and even if he hoped that his love would change Mordred's destiny, there was still the nagging fear that Mordred could, at any time, be in the middle of plots to betray Camelot and her king.

Merlin felt as though his soul was being doused with scalding water. It made him feel absolutely sick to have such thoughts about the man that he claimed to love—no, the man that he _did_ love, and yet… he couldn't help them. Until he confronted Mordred about his destiny and came clean about the reason for his initial dislike towards the druid boy, that fear and doubt would never go away. Not until they discussed everything. And Merlin hated it.

Filled with self-loathing, but egged on by loyalty to Arthur and Albion, Merlin began to search Mordred's chambers. He didn't know what he was looking for. Anything seemingly suspicious, he supposed.

He desperately hoped that his search would turn up nothing.

When Merlin went to open the large wooden cabinet, he found it locked. One flash of golden eyes later, and it was unlocked.

Heart thumping nervously, Merlin opened the creaking doors. Ignoring the hanging clothes, he pulled open the first of three drawers. Inside was nothing more than tools for cleaning armor and the like. Pulling open the second drawer, he found towels and rags. The third drawer held something quite different.

A large stash of papers was located there, along with a folded cloth containing pieces of charcoal. Merlin grabbed a pile of parchment from the top and carried them to the table, laying them out to take a look.

Whatever the warlock had been expecting, this was not it. Perhaps he had expected to find documents, written agreements to partner with Morgana, detailed outlines of evil plans, something of that nature.

What he had _not_ been expecting was drawings. And most _certainly_ not drawings of him_self._

Merlin's dumbstruck expression stayed in place as he let his eyes glide over the assortment of pictures displayed before him. Every single parchment carried an exquisite portrait drawn in charcoal. Some were of Arthur, or the other knights, or even figures that Merlin did not know but recognized as druids, but most were of Merlin.

Merlin sitting on the snowy ground, freezing in the cold. Merlin lying unconscious in the cave. Merlin smiling. Merlin carrying Arthur's armor. Merlin standing on the side of the banquet hall, looking tired. Merlin riding a horse. Merlin laughing. Merlin standing at the window. Merlin blushing modestly.

The detail was intricate and marvelously done, and every single black stroke was perfect in its representation of the real life thing. Merlin lost track of time as he examined every inch of the charcoal pieces of art.

"Are you impressed?"

Merlin jumped at the soft voice that shattered the silent and still air. Eyes wide, he could do little more than stare at Mordred as the knight closed his door and began to remove his uniform.

"Well, are you going to help me or just stand there?"

Merlin jolted for a second time, and he rushed over to give Mordred a hand, mumbling, "Let me help you with that" more to himself than to the knight. An embarrassed pink tone colored his cheeks.

"You know, Emrys, it's dangerous to make a habit of searching people's rooms. One day it may get you killed. You're lucky it hasn't already," commented Mordred lightly.

A shock of fear struck Merlin in the gut. Well _that_ wasn't good. You shouldn't be afraid of your lover, should you?

"Sorry, I… didn't mean to. I had no idea those were there. I was just…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know, I was _worried_ about you!" exclaimed Merlin. "You've been gone for hours! You didn't give me any notice and I… I just wanted to see if maybe you'd left some clues as to why you were gone. I was scared that something had happened to you."

"You were worried about me… Well, I appreciate your concern, truly," said Mordred. His voice seemed friendlier now, more sincere. Merlin struggled to hide his overwhelming relief. "You don't know how much that means to me. But your worrying was thoroughly unnecessary, I promise. I asked Arthur for permission to take the afternoon off, to go for a ride in the woods. That's all."

"Why?"

"I told Arthur that the simurgh attack left a lasting impact on my mental health, and that a jaunt through the forest would settle my druid spirit."

"That wasn't the truth then, I assume?"

"No."

"Then what is? And why did you lie?" asked Merlin.

"You sound… suspicious, Emrys. Why?"

"I'm not!" Merlin disagreed immediately. "I just… don't know why you'd feel the need to lie to Arthur."

"It's not so complicated. I must keep up appearances," said Mordred calmly. "The other knights, they… see me as a child, still. As someone weak, shy, in need of protecting. I can play that part well enough. It suits me in some ways. It was easier to play into his expectations and give an excuse he would readily accept, rather than simply ask for a reprieve from the remainder of my daily duties for no reason at all."

"Then… there was no reason for it?"

"I needed the air. The trees. I may not have been feeling ill, but still… I do long for the forest at times. I like the home I have here, but I have a second home, and on occasion I wish to visit it."

"Was your day pleasant then?" Merlin removed the last piece of Mordred's uniform and went to put it all away. His heart was beginning to calm now, his fears quieting down. Mordred's explanations made sense. Merlin felt guilty for having doubted him, but mostly he was just happy.

"Yes… Yes, it was," replied Mordred, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He refocused his attention on the here and now. "So then. What do you think?"

"About what?" asked Merlin confusedly, facing the plain-clothed knight.

"The pictures."

Merlin's eyes flashed to his earlier find. He walked to the table. His fingers gently brushed against the papers. "They're… incredible, Mordred, really. I had no idea you could do this."

"This isn't just a hobby of mine," said Mordred, joining Merlin by the table. He wrapped an arm comfortably about Merlin's waist as he observed his creations as well. "It's practice."

Merlin's brow crinkled. "Practice for what?"

"Runes," was the answer. "Not a form of magic you use often, I imagine?" Merlin shook his head no, still looking confused. "I'm not surprised. It's much more common among the druids, though even there, few use them anymore. Runes can be very powerful. Having not only words but diagrams also, through which you may channel your energy, is a great power to have. But runes must be very precise. Not one stroke can be off, or your spell will be ruined and there could be severe consequences: a magical backlash of an enormous magnitude. That danger is one of the reasons that the art of runes has dwindled greatly in the world of sorcery."

"But _you_ still use them?" said Merlin, more as a statement than a question.

"Yes. As I said, if harnessed correctly, the runes will add greatly to your own magic, and spells of tremendous power can be completed."

"And you said that these drawings are practice?"

"To be sure I always keep a steady hand," Mordred replied. "That I never miss a stroke. Precision, perfection, is essential. So I keep in practice by doing these."

"Why not just practice by drawing runes?"

"_Never_ do that, Emrys!" warned Mordred fervently. "Runes are not for practice. That would be a dangerous game to play. This is much safer."

"I see… Then… why are so many of these pictures… well, why are they of _me_?"

"Because I _love_ you," Mordred responded immediately, smiling.

A smile of Merlin's own blossomed to match the knight's. His heart began to pound quickly again, but this time the feeling was welcome. Mordred's stunning blue eyes stared deeply into his own, and Merlin wondered fleetingly if Mordred could see Merlin's soul reflected there. He felt rather sure that he could see _Mordred's_ soul in the mischievous twinkle and intelligent depths of the young man's eyes. He liked what he saw.

"I find you to be a more interesting subject to sketch than anyone else, even though it's always difficult to capture the light in your eyes and the free spirit of your smile." Mordred extended a hand and gently traced the lines of the older man's face as he spoke. Merlin felt his cheeks grow warm and he smiled shyly. "I'm afraid I don't do them justice. But I do my best. And of course, I know your face and figure better than my own now. It makes drawing you an easier task, in that way."

"Mordred…" the warlock murmured. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the other man's. "I really love you. You know that, right?"

"I do," was the soft reply. "I marvel at that fact every day. Sometimes it still does not seem real."

"What do you mean?"

"You are everything to me, Emrys. You are, in my eyes, the very essence of beauty and perfection."

Merlin suppressed tears of surprised happiness. "You truly think that of me, don't you?" he stated softly.

"Of course. Why does this surprise you? Can't you see your own worth?"

"I… don't know. Sometimes I feel… I feel like I've got this weight pressing down on me, this destiny with Arthur, and… sometimes I don't think I'm the best man for the job. I mess things up, I get people hurt, I-"

"No. Don't. You may be a powerful sorcerer with a divine destiny, but you are still a _man_. The best man I know, yet a man still. You will make mistakes, and you must accept them. If you made no mistakes, you wouldn't even be human. Arthur likes you just the way you are. I _love_ you just the way you are. It is the man with all his faults that is perfect to me. Were you unflawed you would be untouchable and cold. You, Emrys, are warm and gentle and all that is good. You have always done what is right, and what is noble, and there is no better way to live one's life."

Merlin silently shook his head, smiling in amazement. "How is it you always know what to say?" Merlin chuckled. "I'm lucky to have you, Mordred, truly I am."

"It's no more than you deserve. You deserve everything the world has to offer, and if I could, I would give it all to you. Yet sometimes this still does not seem real because I fail to see how you could ever want me, when you deserve so much more. I could never have thought that you would share these feelings. You are… Emrys. I'm only Mordred."

"There's no such thing as 'only Mordred'," was the firm reply. Merlin placed his hands on Mordred's cheeks, gazing directly into his eyes. "You deserve me just as much as I deserve you. You are the most… incredible, brilliant person, and you have to know that. You must _always_ know that. I don't want you to doubt your worth. You are just as deserving as I am. Believe me. I love you, Mordred."

"…Thank you, Emrys," the druid said quietly, his eyes growing misty with joyful tears. "If I trust in anything, it's you. And that's why I do believe you. It's… a wonderful feeling. I've never felt so at ease, with myself. I've never _truly_ been _proud_ of who I am, but knowing that you love me… I know I have reason to be proud. I know I've done well." One solitary tear fell from Mordred's eye, trailing a slow course down his face. "I've never felt so… cherished. And I've never wanted someone this way."

"Neither have I," admitted Merlin, smiling kindly. "It's a bit scary, isn't it?"

"Yes. But I'm glad of it."

"So am I."

Leaning in, Merlin pressed his lips to Mordred's in a gentle kiss. Mordred's tear dropped onto the druid's lip and Merlin tasted its wet coolness as their mouths moved together.

The kiss was slow, but somehow undeniably more passionate than any kiss they had shared before. Merlin absorbed the heat of Mordred's body pressed close against his own, tasted the sweetness of Mordred's tongue, and felt the tender pair of lips moving against his own.

The warlock was overwhelmed by the strong feelings brought on by the contact: there was a fire in his veins like a chemical reaction to the touch, an aching for _more_ in the pit of his soul, and then a mellow gladness in his chest, a state of perfect joy at the depth of emotion shared in the kiss.

A few tears of his own formed and tumbled freely down Merlin's cheeks, but the lovers did not break the kiss. Slowly, the two men made their way to the bed, only breaking apart to remove pieces of clothing along the way. They continued in this way, completely unhurried, taking the time to appreciate every detail of the moment. Bare chests, black hair, soft hands, pink lips, pale skin, warm flesh, blue eyes…

Merlin and Mordred drank it all in, drowning themselves in the pure connection of their hearts, souls, and bodies. The perfect moment, however fleeting, was proof of a love that they knew would last forever.

They only spoke one more time that evening.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Yes."


	8. Of Fate and Destiny

_Author's Note: A huge thanks to all my reviewers! I really appreciate your support. Thanks also to everyone who has favorited this story, and of course to all of my followers (makes me sound a bit like a Dark Lord, don't ya think?). Thanks for reading, everybody. Enjoy this newest chapter. (I'll try to update soon, but it may take me a bit longer than it normally has lately)._

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Even before his eyes fluttered open, Merlin became aware of the warm body pressed up against his chest and held firmly beneath his arm. He smiled.

Eyes now open, Merlin gazed at the wavy black mess of Mordred's hair. He reveled in the feeling of Mordred's bare body held tightly against his own, and the feeling of his arm wrapped around Mordred's waist. He'd never experienced such bliss in his life. If only every day could begin this way. Comforted by the sound of Mordred's quiet breaths in and out, Merlin allowed his mind to dwell upon the events of the last evening. A delicate smile rested on his features as he thought of it.

It had been the first time that Merlin had made love to anyone. He'd expected his first time to be awkward and clumsy, but it wasn't. It was perfect. There was something so natural about what they'd done that it had occurred without any problems, as if it were simply meant to be. Even though they were both virgins, they had discovered the new pleasures together, slowly finding their way in a manner that felt good and right, not awkward at all.

Merlin thought back to the pictures that had prompted the conversation that led to their intimacy. He was still amazed by Mordred's skill at the art, and flattered by Mordred's decision to draw the warlock so frequently, getting every single detail perfect when he did so. It overwhelmed Merlin that someone cared for him enough to notice everything about him the way that Mordred clearly had. It warmed his heart.

But then Merlin's thoughts wandered back to the reason for his discovery in the first place. He'd been searching Mordred's rooms. _Searching_ them! Like Mordred was any other suspicious guest in Camelot, instead of a loyal Knight of the Round Table. Guilt settled like a weight in his stomach, and yet… he knew that should such an occasion arise again, he would think no differently and _act _no differently.

_What should I do?_ he asked himself desperately. Merlin wanted to trust Mordred wholly, but as long as his foreknowledge remained a plague on their relationship, this would be impossible. There was only one thing to be done.

_I need to tell him everything_, he concluded, feeling sick. _We need to discuss this. Maybe he doesn't know what he's destined to do, and by talking about it, I can make sure he'll never go down that path._

Merlin was filled with anxiety at the thought of confronting his lover. What if Mordred was angry that he'd been concealing the truth? What if Mordred already _knew_ about his destiny and planned to go through with it?

No. There was no way that was possible. Mordred was too good. Merlin trusted in at least _that _much. Besides, Mordred cared about Arthur, and he cared about _Merlin_, obviously. He wouldn't do anything to hurt them.

Right?

Merlin snapped free of his traitorous thoughts as he felt the man beside him begin to shift under his arm. Waking up, Mordred turned over to face Merlin—and all of Merlin's doubt vanished. Mordred's blue eyes sparkled in the morning, and he smiled sweetly at Merlin. Merlin smiled in return, his heart racing happily.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning, Emrys," returned the druid.

"Sleep well?"

"Stunningly so. I haven't slept so well in many years."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Merlin, making a sympathetic face.

"Don't be. I just wish that you were by my side every night. Perhaps… one day you _will_ be."

"I hope so," Merlin admitted. Mordred flashed him a loving smile.

"Let's just stay here for the rest of the day," Mordred murmured, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to Merlin.

The manservant chuckled fondly. It was at times like this that Merlin was reminded of Mordred's youth. The age difference didn't bother him: Mordred was very mature after all, more so than many of the older knights. But when Merlin did see the flashes of youth in him, it was rather endearing. He sounded so sweet and innocent, and Merlin wished he could hold the young man in his arms forever.

"I think Arthur might object if I don't show up for work," Merlin pointed out.

"Have Gaius tell him you're at the tavern again," said Mordred, voice muffled where his head lay on Merlin's chest. Merlin laughed brightly.

"The tavern excuse won't work forever. One of these days, Arthur will actually go look for me there, and then I'd be in _loads_ of trouble," he said, grinning. "Besides, do you have any idea how much work Arthur would pile on top of me for being at the tavern _all day_?"

"Well, it's you who'll have to do it, not me."

"How sympathetic of you."

Mordred smirked. "It's settled then. We'll stay here today."

"And what about training? I'm fairly certain the other knights would notice your absence." Merlin glanced down. His eyebrows rose at the look of disdain on Mordred's face. "What?"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," commented the knight. "They aren't the brightest of men."

"That's being a little harsh, don't you think?"

"Either way, I'd rather spend my time with _you_ than _them_."

"You ought to give them more of a chance, you know," advised Merlin gently. "They're good men. And they're really fond of you. Why don't you like them?"

"I… don't know. I don't fit in with them, not really. The Mordred of which they are fond is only a face that I put on. They know very little of the real me."

"Well then, _fix_ that! Show more of yourself to them. They'll love you all the same, I know it."

"They're so… dull."

"I promise you, they're not." Merlin chuckled. "They may not be perfect, and yes, sometimes they can be a bit thick, but they're good, loyal men. I'm glad to have them as friends, and if you let them in, I'm sure you'd feel the same. Take Gwaine for instance. He may come off as being immature and even obnoxious at times, but truly he's the most loyal friend I've ever had. Besides, he's just a lot of fun. I'm glad he's the way he is because… his antics make the world brighter. He makes people laugh; he makes them happy. It's his gift."

"Perhaps." Mordred still looked unsure. Merlin kissed the top of his head.

"Trust me. Just give them half a chance. Get to know them, let _them _get to know _you_. It's good to have friends, Mordred."

"Yes, I suppose. I'll… try."

"Thank you. That's all I want. It hurts me to see you cut yourself off from them, when I know that they could make you less lonely than you are."

"All I need is _you_, Emrys," disagreed the younger man.

Smiling kindly, Merlin said, "You _think_ that, but that's just because you don't _have_ anyone else. Except Arthur, I suppose. But trust me, it'll be nice to have others to care about."

Mordred made no response to this claim, and so the duo drifted into silence. Merlin stroked Mordred's hair softly, content just to have Mordred resting against him this way.

Mordred was comforted by the rise and fall of Merlin's chest as he breathed. It was a soothing motion. He let his eyes close, absorbing the wonderful morning, trying to make sure that every detail was committed to memory. Hopefully there would be repeats of this in the future.

He thought about Merlin's advice. Was he right? Had Mordred been judging the other knights too severely? Would their often-silly behavior become more palatable if he tried to view them as friends rather than as fools?

Sighing, Mordred put it from his mind. He could consider this later. For now, he just wanted to appreciate Merlin's presence.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Mordred moved off of Merlin's side, putting a small distance between them so he could turn on his side and see his lover. Merlin smiled and leaned forward. Mordred met him with a kiss. When they drew apart, Mordred was surprised to see that there was a certain look in Merlin's eyes now that hadn't been there previously.

Merlin gazed intently at Mordred. In the silence, he'd started to think again on the decision he'd made earlier, to confront Mordred about everything. If he was going to do it, now was as good a time as ever. He just needed to gather the courage to speak the words.

_Come on, Merlin,_ he encouraged himself. _This can't be too hard. After this, everything will be fine; nothing will stand in the way of being with Mordred anymore._ That was what finally propelled him forward. Slowly, Merlin opened his mouth to begin speaking.

"Do you… think it's possible to escape one's destiny?" Merlin questioned the younger man hesitantly.

"Why? Are you thinking of leaving Camelot to become a sheepherder?" Mordred quipped in a low murmur. He gave a small smile as Merlin grinned at his remark. Reaching out, he lightly brushed Merlin's cheek as the warlock replied cheekily,

"Yeah, I was thinking… a little hut just outside of Ealdor, a little land for pasture. Arthur can take of himself. What do you think? Care to join me and the sheep?"

"Only if the bread in Ealdor is as good as the bread here."

"Of all the delicacies that the knights get to feast on, it's always the bread with you," Merlin noted, smiling and shaking his head with fond incredulity.

"If you'd grown up eating the same rough, flavorless loaves of bread that I did, you would understand. But I feel we've strayed from your original thought."

Merlin's features turned serious once more, and he nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but looked into Mordred's stunning blue eyes and hesitated. He was still nervous to enter into this subject, but knew he needed to do it.

"Do you know what you're destined to do?"

The teasing light in his expression fading, Mordred became calm and impossible to read.

"I've heard things," was the vague reply. Merlin waited, but no more words followed these.

Merlin's heart pounded, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying. How could this be happening? How could Mordred be acknowledging his destiny without making any promise not to follow the path set out for him?

It could only mean one thing. Mordred meant to follow that path.

Merlin felt his world crashing down around him. This was it. His deepest fear was being realized. Merlin wanted to lash out, wanted to hit something, claw at his own skin, allow the tears to flow forth freely, but he held it all in. He couldn't bear to show that level of vulnerability to Arthur's killer.

His mind was already slowly shifting from viewing Mordred as 'lover Mordred' to 'evil Arthur-murdering Mordred'.

Merlin wanted to scream in agony.

All his hope was gone. Everything he'd been hoping for when he first became friends and then lovers with Mordred… was never going to happen. Love wasn't stronger than destiny after all. Love wasn't strong enough.

"How can this… How can _we_…" he stuttered, mind still reeling.

"We'll sort it out. For now, just don't."

Mordred's calm tone while dealing with what was pure _horror_ in Merlin's mind finally broke through to the warlock. Merlin's panic subsided, leaving calm Merlin in its place, the Merlin that would face down any foe to protect Arthur.

In a firm tone, Merlin said, "You know I'll have to stop you."

"If the event of which you speak does indeed come to pass, then you know that you won't be _able_ to stop me. I was never meant to be your battle, Emrys. I'm Arthur's. Morgana is yours. You will be able to do nothing for your king."

"_Our_ king," corrected Merlin, his body quivering with restrained anger as he pushed away the covers and rose quickly to his feet, pulling on his pants. There was something unnerving about confronting one's enemy whilst completely naked. "Or have you forgotten your allegiance to him so quickly?" Mordred mirrored the warlock's actions, but slowly, with obvious deliberation.

Facing each other, they stood separated by only the bed. In their hearts, however, the two men knew with painful certainty that it was so much more than just the bed coming between them. The divide was as great as the ice chasm that had separated them after Arthur and Merlin's escape from the slave traders. And just like then, it felt as though Merlin was hacking away at the ice, purposefully widening the divide even further.

Mordred felt as though it were his own heart being chipped away at, but he had no intention to simply fold under Merlin's anger. Though he'd never wanted to have this conversation, the time had come, and he had a few choice things to say.

"I haven't forgotten anything. I only know that I once owed Arthur a life debt, and this is no longer true. I have repaid in full. But my destiny will lead where it may."

"Of course…" mused Merlin, "_That's_ why you saved him from Morgana! I knew you weren't as innocent as you were pretending to be."

"While I did not wish to remain indebted to Arthur, that was not the only reason for my actions," said Mordred. "What I told you after my knighting ceremony was the truth. I saw that Morgana had forgotten what was most important. Besides, it is not Arthur's fate to die by her hand."

"So you saved him from Morgana only so that you could have the glory for yourself," said Merlin contemptuously. Looking away from his lover in disgust, he took a few steps towards the center of the room.

Mordred's eyes narrowed angrily, and he once more mirrored Merlin's actions as he said, "Who said anything about there being glory in one's fate? There is none. If my destiny is ever to be realized, which it must, then presently, Arthur's fate is to die by my hand. I have no choice."

"There is _always_ a choice between what is right and what is wrong, Mordred."

"And you do not think it is right for our people to be liberated from Camelot's persecution?"

"Killing a good man, the greatest ruler Albion will ever know, isn't right. No matter your end goal, if you kill Arthur… you have already strayed from the path of what is _right_."

"Says the man who nearly allowed a young innocent druid boy to be executed at the hands of Arthur's father." Mordred knew he shouldn't be making personal attacks, not now. There was so much else he wished to say, better evidence that he could provide! But his bitterness had got the best of him. The knight swore internally at his idiocy.

"But I didn't."

"I'm speaking of the liberation of an entire _people_, Emrys!" he cried, returning to the important topic. "And it's not as if Arthur is wholly innocent and blameless, like I was. Don't you-"

"No, I know. Listen to me," commanded Merlin firmly. "Arthur _will_ come round. I know Arthur better than anyone else alive, and for all that he can be a stubborn, arrogant clotpole, he is the bravest, noblest… most compassionate man I know.

"He has already softened to the idea of magic, even if he hasn't changed the laws," Merlin pleaded. "You and I, perhaps together we can… We can help him. Make him into the king that he must become, a ruler fit to unite all of Albion. You _know_ that he is our best chance! How could you even think of destroying that?"

"More than anything, Emrys, I wish to do just that, help him as you suggest. As your destiny is to protect Arthur, Arthur's destiny is to become the Once and Future King. Such a king I would honor and follow always. But at this time, his fate is leading him down a different path. The wrong one."

"What?" Merlin was confused. "There _is_ no difference between fate and destiny."

"You're wrong," answered Mordred softly. "There _is_ a difference, and it is a very important one. My _destiny_, Emrys, is to bring about the return of magic to Camelot. My _fate_ is to kill Arthur."

"What are you saying? I don't understand."

"Destiny is that which we have always been meant to do, the best path our lives may take. It will never change. But a person's destiny is never assured. Though my destiny is to bring back the Old Religion, this future may never be realized. Fate, however, _is_ our _reality_. A person's fate can shift over the course of time. When everything goes right, one's destiny and fate should coincide perfectly. But this is not always the case.

"Therefore, though it is Arthur's _destiny_ to become the Once and Future King, his fate currently lies entwined with me, and ends in death. His destiny will never be fulfilled, because his destiny is the best path that he could take, and he has not chosen to take it. He must choose to follow his destiny before his fate can change, and mine with it. Do you see?"

"I… I don't know, Mordred," answered Merlin slowly. "That all just sounded like a lot of complicated words meant to justify your decision to kill Arthur. A horrible, terrible decision."

"Well. I have explained it to you, but you don't seem inclined to make an effort to understand," was the curt reply. "Believe what you will." Mordred turned on his heel and headed for the door, intent on leaving. He had no wish to stay and bear witness to the destruction of his relationship with Merlin. He felt sick to the stomach, and it felt like his heart was crumbling into ash. It was best to get out, and get out _now_.

"Look, I'm… I _am_ _trying_, alright?" Mordred stopped again at Merlin's words, but he kept his back to the other man. It was simply too hard to resist Merlin. After all… he did love the warlock. He didn't _want_ this to end! "This isn't easy for me! I want to trust you, believe in you but… this is…"

Mordred's quiet voice wavered slightly as he said, "I thought you loved me. Or was all that a lie?"

"Don't. Don't do that. You know it wasn't. You know me too well for that." Merlin stepped over to the druid man, gently turning him around so they were once more face-to-face. Mordred's jaw was clenched and his eyes bore coldly into Merlin's—but Merlin saw through that. Mordred was hurting, and trying to hide it.

His own heart tore at the thought. Instinctively, the manservant reached a hand towards Mordred's cheek, but he caught himself, and it dropped sadly back to his side. The knight looked even tenser.

"Mordred… I want to understand. I do. But you need to help me. Even now, you've still never been completely open with me. Just… Just _tell_ me."

"What is it you want me to say?" asked Mordred stiffly.

"I want to know how much you know of your destiny and… your _fate_, how long you've known it, and what you plan to do."

"My destiny, as I've said, is to see the return of magic to this land. I've known for a long time that this means that I am fated to be Arthur's downfall. Long before I became a knight, I knew this. And though my first choice would be to set Arthur down the right path, and change our fates, if that is not possible then I will do as I am meant to. Arthur will meet his end at my hand."

"I don't understand. I don't," said Merlin, shaking his head. "If you've been planning to kill Arthur all this time, why are you here? Is it to gain his trust, so that he'll be blind when the day comes? An easier victory, is that it? Or is it just more _fun_ for you this way?"

"You haven't been listening to me," Mordred said, jaw clenching. "First and foremost, my goal has been to change our fates before they must come to a close. Arthur showed me great kindness when I was child. I never forgot that. Just as I never forgot the power of love, a power that Arthur still keeps, but Morgana has lost. I am glad to serve at Arthur's side. I do not wish to kill him."

"But you'll still do it, if you fail at changing his fate?"

"Yes."

"So let me just make sure I've got all this. You agree that killing Arthur is wrong, but you're going to do it anyways because you're fated to," stated Merlin dryly.

"I never said that killing Arthur was wrong."

"But you-!"

"Things are not so black and white as you would like them to be! I said only that I do not wish to kill Arthur, but that doesn't mean it's wrong. Regrettable? Yes. Not wrong. There is no simple right and wrong here. Is Arthur right to keep sorcery outlawed? Is Morgana wrong to fight for the freedom of her people?"

"How can you even suggest that Morgana's actions haven't been wrong?" asked Merlin, dumbstruck.

"Because I am not as close-minded and hypocritical as you."

"Are you aware what Morgana's _done_?" he cried.

"Are you aware what _Uther_ has done?" was the fierce reply.

"Uther is long dead, and Arthur is _not_ his father."

"Even before Uther's death, you, Emrys, fought on the side of Camelot, the side which was murdering innocent people daily."

The manservant cringed, years of guilt washing down on him. "I had to. It's my destiny to protect Arthur. I had to stay by his side and keep him safe, so that one day he could become a fit ruler for Albion."

"Oh? So are you suggesting that you did bad things because it is what your destiny required of you?" asked Mordred in a mocking light tone.

"It's not the same."

"I fail to see the difference."

"I at least believe my destiny is the right course!"

"I'm no different in that respect."

"But… but you…"

"I have long wished to save my people. If Arthur never accepts his destiny to become the Once and Future King, and continues to outlaw sorcery and persecute those who practice it, then Arthur's death becomes the only way to bring about our freedom, and the return of the Old Religion," explained Mordred carefully and calmly. "And so I will do the deed, and not think it wrong."

"I don't believe this. I _don't_ believe this."

"You know, Morgana started out just as you did," observed Mordred lightly, "just as sickened by what Uther was doing, only _she_ had the conviction to do something about it, where you had none. I've watched you stand by and do nothing as whole camps of innocent people have been attacked and slaughtered in Uther's name, and usually it was Arthur himself leading the attacks."

"Only at his father's orders," Merlin defended forcefully.

"And does that make it _right_?"

"If you're speaking of Alvarr and his group-"

"That is only one of the times of which I speak."

"Alvarr was a traitor to Camelot," the warlock said angrily. "A rebel. He would have killed Uther and _all_ _who worked for him_ if we'd just let him go. I heard him say it myself!"

"And can you blame him?" pressed Mordred. "Uther had killed many more than that number of Alvarr's people. How can you label Alvarr as the evil one?"

"I never said that Uther was right either."

"Then _why_ do you only ever hold those who wish to revolt accountable for their actions? Why is the measure of murder acceptable when it stems from the royal house of Camelot, but not when it comes from those who have been persecuted for so long and wish only to regain their freedom? Some would say that it is the people's _responsibility_ to rebel against a corrupt governing force. And ever since Uther's time, the Pendragon line has been just that."

"No," said Merlin, shaking his head. "Arthur isn't like that. He's not like Uther was."

"And yet no official apology has been made for Uther's wrongdoings, the ban on sorcery has yet to be lifted, and it appears unlikely that things will change anytime soon."

"I thought you _liked_ Arthur," Merlin said disbelievingly, but in a dull tone, his emotional well seeming to have dried up. He seemed almost resigned now.

"I do. I know him, and he is a good man," the druid admitted freely. "But that doesn't justify his destructive ignorance, or the inexcusable evils he has committed in his father's name. Morgana at least was never one to follow orders she knew to be morally wrong. She always followed her heart. At least… she did in the beginning. Until she became so twisted by Uther's hate that she became no better than he."

"So you _do _think that Morgana is wrong?"

"I think that her goals have become warped along the way. I do not approve of what she is now. That is why I chose Arthur in the Fortress of Ismere. But at least I am able to look at all sides of this war with a fair eye. You _must _try to do the same. If you love me, you will think on what I've said, and you will understand."

Merlin's brow crinkled and he opened his mouth, but Mordred cut him off, continuing on.

"I'm not saying that you need to believe that Arthur's death is an acceptable course of action, I only need you to _understand_ that no one in this matter is wholly right or wholly wrong. In many ways, Morgana is right, but in just as many is she wrong. Arthur is the same. I only chose his side because he still remembers the most important thing of all: love."

Mordred halted. Hesitantly, he stepped towards Merlin. Merlin's heart pounded—both from excitement _and_ fear this time—but he didn't move away. The knight raised a tentative hand and slowly brushed his thumb across Merlin's cheek. More than anything, Mordred wanted to kiss the older man, but he did not feel that his love would be welcome at the moment.

Sadly, he dropped his hand—but he allowed it to brush from Merlin's shoulder, down the length of his arm, until he was holding Merlin's hand. The delicate touch sent shivers down Merlin's back. Mordred was filled with the smallest glimmer of hope when Merlin did not pull away from his grasp.

"But this _is war_, Emrys," he said softly. "Sacrifices must be made, and you cannot always tell if they are right or wrong. I believe that in some instances, particularly one as desperate as this, the end result can justify the steps taken to get there. If you don't agree, I will respect that. But I need you to understand. You're not a child anymore; it's time you grew up. At some point you'll have to realize that sometimes people, even ones we love, must be sacrificed for the greater good."

Merlin absorbed the younger man's words and thoughts. He knew that he was not in a fit state to judge them fairly. Gently pulling away, Merlin said, "I need to think. I'll… come see you later."

Stopping only long enough to pick up his clothes and pull them on, Merlin made his way quickly from the room. Mordred watched him do so, a gnawing anxiety in his heart. He did not feel that this would end well.

It was a shame, really. A perfect night and morning—ruined. And it looked as if their relationship was headed in the same morbid direction.

* * *

True to his word, Merlin returned by the end of the day. He entered Mordred's room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Was Arthur upset with you for being late?" Mordred asked swiftly. He had a feeling—based off the fact that Merlin looked slightly vacant and was decidedly _not_ looking at Mordred—that he didn't want to have the other conversation just yet. Well, _ever_.

"Not really. He fussed a bit, at first, but he got over it soon enough. He seemed to realize that something was wrong, so he left me alone mostly."

Mordred nodded. He tried to think of something to say, _anything_, to prolong what he knew was coming, but his mind was blank, his mouth dry.

"Mordred…" began Merlin, lifting his eyes to meet the other man's. "I'm sorry. I… can't be with you. Not like this. Arthur is… my destiny. And… more importantly, he's my best friend. I… thought about everything you said, and I want you to know… I do understand. I really do. But that doesn't mean- I can't just _accept_ it! I can't _be_ with someone who would think of murdering my best friend, no matter the circumstances. That's not a sacrifice I'll ever be willing to make.

"But I understand why you're doing what you're doing, and I respect you for it. I just can't let it happen. If you ever try to hurt him, I won't let you. I'll stop you, Mordred. And since that's the case, I just… I can't stay with you. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. It's better for me to end things now, before I reach the point that any future conflict between us destroys me. This is the only way to protect myself."

Mordred inhaled deeply, keeping a tight check on his emotions. After a moment, he said, "I understand. You must do what's right for you."

Merlin gave a curt nod. He stood in place a second longer, but then turned towards the door. He had no reason to stay. Not anymore.

"Just know, Emrys…" Mordred said behind him. Merlin paused. "I will always love you. Always."

His eyes filling with water, Merlin made no response and quickly rushed through the door. Speeding back towards his own chambers, Merlin wiped away the tears as they fell, wishing it were as easy to wipe away the memories of the love he had shared with Mordred.

* * *

_Do ya'll hate me yet? Hopefully not. So anyways, I'm thinking of just changing the title of this chapter to "When Everything Ever Gets Shot To Hell". ...No? Alright, just kidding. But seriously, leave a review with your thoughts! It'd be much appreciated. Also, for those that have seen it, what do you guys think of the latest Merlin episode? I find myself very curious as to how others are reacting. Well, that's all! Have a nice day!_


	9. You've Got a Friend In Me

_Author's Note: Once again, thanks so much to all my wonderful reviewers. Your support means so much to me. Please remember to review with your thoughts on this chapter! WARNING: Slight spoilers for season 5 episode 5._

* * *

From that day forward, Merlin avoided Mordred as much as possible, though it broke his heart to do so. It was his hope that in time, that pain would lessen. It was better to deal with a little bit of heartbreak—ok, a _lot_ of heartbreak—_now_ than to face the pain of being forced to kill his lover _later_. Or worse, watching his lover kill his best friend. No, this was the way it had to be.

Merlin had been honest with Mordred. He did understand his feelings on the matter. But even if he could accept the idea of killing Arthur as a last resort—which he couldn't—he certainly couldn't trust anyone else with that decision. How would Mordred know when enough was enough? When Arthur's chances had run out and it was time for him to die? Merlin couldn't put faith in the idea that Mordred would hold out long enough. He wasn't about to put Arthur's fate in someone else's hands, not when he'd fought so hard for his protection all these years.

Mordred respected Merlin's wishes. The separation pained him just as deeply, but he made no effort to see Merlin or to speak to him, not even telepathically. Sometimes he was overwhelmed with the desire to do so, just to hear Merlin's voice again, and particularly to hear Merlin addressing _him_ rather than anyone else, but he restrained himself. He knew it would only hurt Merlin, perhaps even anger him. So the knight would bite his lip as a distraction, hard enough to draw blood, and fall asleep at night, shedding tears that had nothing to do with his cut lip.

* * *

"Mordred?"

Mordred's head shot up in shock. He was in the middle of removing his armor after training when Sir Elyan—already undressed—approached him.

"Yes?" he returned with a polite smile. The other knight took a seat beside him.

"Are you alright?" Elyan asked quietly. Mordred instinctively glanced at the rowdy knights around them, but none seemed to notice or care about their conversation. "I don't mean to pry, but you've seemed a bit distant lately. Even more so than usual. Is something troubling you?"

Mordred was overwhelmed. He'd always felt that Elyan was a more likeable man than the other knights, but he'd never expected such kindness and friendship from him. Mordred's mind immediately flashed back to his last morning with Merlin.

"_It's good to have friends, Mordred."_ The druid man could picture the smiling face that accompanied those words, and he flinched. But perhaps Merlin had been right. And especially now that Merlin was gone from his life, it might be nice to have others that cared about him. Morgana was good to have, but he needed someone more present, more attentive, and not quite so… evil.

"I…" Mordred sighed. "I'll admit, things have not been… ideal for me, lately. But it's not something I'd like to discuss. However, I appreciate your concern. Thank you, Elyan."

"Are you sure?" asked Elyan, frowning slightly. "It does no good to stew in unhappy thoughts. It might help to share them."

"With all due respect, I don't think so."

"Well, if you're sure…" he conceded. Elyan stood up. Pausing, he looked down at the younger knight. "Listen, Mordred, some of us are going to the tavern tonight. You should come. I know you don't usually like to, but it'll be fun. You need to loosen up a little, forget about whatever it is that's upsetting you."

"Well… I-"

"Promise you'll come," commanded Elyan, grinning impishly.

Mordred gave an honest chuckle, and a boyish smile. "Alright. I suppose I can. It doesn't seem as if I have much choice, besides."

"Very perceptive of you," Gwen's brother complimented teasingly. With a smirk, Elyan strolled off, calling back "Don't be late!" over his shoulder.

"But you haven't told me what time-" Mordred began to call back—but the man had already left. Mordred sighed.

"Just after supper." Mordred turned, startled, to a grinning Sir Gwaine. Gwaine winked mischievously. "Just meet me in the courtyard outside, I'll take care of you. You'll have a right good time; I _personally_ guarantee it."

Surprised, Mordred felt his heart warm a bit at the offer and promise. Merlin had been right on this account as well: they truly were fond of him, it would seem. He felt a slight twinge of guilt.

"Excellent!" he said, smiling back sweetly. "I'll be there."

Gwaine smiled broadly, clapping him on the shoulder. He walked out, Leon and Percival following behind with their own friendly smiles towards the young knight, until Mordred was the only one left. He pondered this new event. He'd never been excessively fond of the drink, but he supposed the socializing could do little harm. They truly seemed eager to lift his spirits, and maybe they could. It couldn't hurt to try anyways.

Feeling more lighthearted than he had in days, Mordred put away the rest of his armor and made his way out of the room and back to his chambers.

* * *

"Merlin?"

Merlin's head shot up. He was in the middle of cleaning Arthur and Gwen's rooms when the queen approached him.

"Yes?" he asked politely. Gwen came to stand quietly at his side.

"Are you alright?" Merlin grimaced, lowering his head back to his chores. "You've seemed rather distressed lately. I'm worried about you. Is something the matter?"

"Not at all," said Merlin bitingly. "Everything's just perfect."

"Well it doesn't _seem_ that way."

Merlin felt that he could perceive a bit of hurt in her tone. He sighed. He supposed he had sounded rather bitter. She had done nothing to deserve that attitude from him. He scolded himself for his callousness.

"I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean to be rude, or seem ungrateful, really I didn't. I just don't want to talk about it."

"It only makes it worse to keep everything locked up inside of you. Trust me, I know. It might do you some good to tell someone. You know I'm always here for you."

"I do, I do know that, I just… I can't."

"Does this have anything to do with… that man? The one you love," asked Gwen slowly. Merlin's jaw clenched and his fingers strangled his washcloth. Gwen was startled by the sudden change. "I'm sorry! I… Truly, Merlin, I'm sorry. Both for asking and… for whatever it is that's happened between you two. I hope that things work out in the end. I think they will, if you give it time. Love can overcome anything. I truly believe that. It was certainly true for me. I'm sure it will be for you as well."

"I don't think so," disagreed Merlin bitterly. "Love hasn't treated me too well in the past. This time won't be any different. Well… that's not quite true, the circumstances are different, but the end result won't be. Perhaps I'm simply not meant to have love."

"_This _time?" repeated Guinevere slowly. "I… had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" asked Merlin distractedly, brooding over Mordred.

"That you'd been in love before! I knew nothing about it."

Even older memories crashed into Merlin's consciousness, and he tensed again, remembering the cruelty of the situation.

"Like I said. It ended badly. Anyways, it doesn't matter anymore; it was a long time ago. I've gotten over it. I haven't been that successful yet this time around. I'm sure it'll get better soon."

"I hope you're right. But when it was me, I never found that my pain faded much at all during the time I was away from Arthur," commented Gwen.

Merlin winced. "I just have to hope that things will be different for me, then."

"Well, _you_ may do so, but _I_ will hope that things turn out just the same for you as they did for me." Merlin's brow knitted together in displeasure, but Gwen smiled and, before he could say anything, continued to say, "I got everything I ever wanted. I'm wed to the man I love most in the world, and I'm happy again. That is what I wish for you, Merlin."

Merlin's spirit brightened at his friend's sweet words and a small smile lit his face. "Thank you. That's… kind of you. Really."

"And please, if this gets much worse, _come_ to me. You can talk to me. I'm _certain _it will do you good."

"I… I don't-"

"Promise you'll come," commanded Gwen, smiling teasingly, but kindly. Merlin chuckled.

"Alright. I promise. Since when did you become as bossy as Arthur?"

Gwen ignored this. "I expect to see you in a happier mood soon, Merlin. Otherwise, I'll be waiting for your visit." Smiling, she walked towards the door.

"Gwen?" She paused, turning back to her friend. "Thanks." Gwen nodded sweetly and took her leave.

Merlin shook his head, grinning happily. He was stunned to find that he already was in a much better mood than he'd been recently. He had a feeling it wouldn't last, but he was determined to appreciate it while it did. The warlock reflected fondly on Gwen, grateful as ever to have her as a close friend.

Feeling optimistic, Merlin finished up his chores, even leaving Arthur's chambers with a delicate smile on his face.

* * *

All in all, it was a most successful evening. The knights were certainly an effective distraction from Mordred's thoughts. It was quite difficult to think about Merlin when Sir Gwaine was ruffling your hair and shoving a sloshing mug into your hand, or when Sir Leon and Sir Percival burst out into rowdy choruses once they'd downed several drinks, or when you were being introduced to Sir Elyan's "bonnie lass", as Gwaine called her.

Of course, it was also difficult to think about Merlin when the barmaid seemed to have taken a fancy to you and the knights refused to stop teasing you about it.

Mordred allowed himself to blush over the affair, and for once, as he acted like a sweet, embarrassed, innocent boy for the knights, he did not actually feel that he was acting. For while the knights were not necessarily his equals in intellect or power, they did all have many more years under their belts, and they were much more experienced than he with social things. Like being flirted with by pretty girls, or, in Gwaine's case mostly, flirting with _them_.

Mordred was quite unsure how to respond to the barmaid's advances, so he just blushed and replied to her through his polite mask. She didn't seem to mind that he wasn't reciprocating. In fact, Mordred would swear that she was laughing along with his friends as they teasingly mocked him for it.

Being around the knights in this atmosphere was quite different than their normal interactions. When they'd all begun to be affected by the alcohol, they became much more… affectionate. Particularly physically. Gwaine was stumbling about, seeming to fall on top of Percival quite often and not giving a damn about it (in fact, he just laughed loudly), and every single one of the knights nudged Mordred, leaned against him, gave him friendly punches, tripped onto his lap (Gwaine), or patted his head throughout the evening. Strangely enough, Mordred didn't mind. He may have even enjoyed it. It was sort of… sweet?

The druid knight finally began to realize how much these men truly did care for him. Before, he'd never understood how Merlin could feel honest mutual affection for those who didn't know the truth about him, didn't know who he really was, because surely any such relationship was a lie. How could Merlin care for friends who only liked one side of him, not _all _of him?

But now Mordred understood. They didn't know all about Mordred, but suddenly that didn't matter. It didn't matter at all.

Mordred limited himself to only one drink, having no wish to lose himself in the effects of the alcohol or to wake with terrible consequences the next morning. Of the others, Elyan was the only one who didn't allow himself to get drunk, so that he could spend time with the girl seated comfortably on his lap. She really was quite charming, and they looked very happy together. Mordred could not help the sad twist in his stomach as he watched Elyan whispering into the ear of his lady friend, drawing a modest smile from her.

Luckily, Mordred was never left much time to focus on that sad jealousy, as the other knights were constantly pulling his attention away. Mordred found himself smiling and laughing more than he ever had around them. And it felt _right_. Not fake, not forced. Perfectly genuine. Merlin was right once _again_: these were fun, enjoyable men. Mordred was quite certain he'd never heard Percival speak so much at one time, or heard Leon joke so much, and he certainly wouldn't be forgetting Gwaine's imitation of a feminine strut anytime soon. Mordred was angry with himself for having lost time with these men, but his good mood was much more powerful, and he let all his anger slide away for the time being.

By the end of the evening, Mordred's resolve to become friends with the other knights had greatly strengthened. His mood was significantly lifted from earlier, and for a brief few hours, he'd been able to forget all his cares completely.

When he collapsed into his bed later that night, Mordred found himself smiling as he drifted off to sleep, for the first time in many long days.

* * *

Mordred knew it would be hard to ignore Merlin, prepared himself for it in fact, but that didn't take the feeling away. The aching void in his chest that appeared each and every time he saw the warlock. The desperate want. The painful _need_.

After more than a week of silence, Mordred knew he could take it no longer. The frustration was building up inside of him—for frustration was a less painful emotion to feel than depression and frailty—and he worried that he might soon snap. He was quite sure that he already would have if the companionship of the other knights had not kept his heart afloat in a sea of despair.

But Mordred had reached his breaking point. Merlin hadn't done anything more than occasionally glance his direction before looking away with a blank look—as if Mordred were of no consequence!—for over a week. If he could just get Merlin to acknowledge his _existence_, to say _one thing_ to him. It didn't matter what.

* * *

Merlin carefully avoided looking Mordred's way as the knights gathered on the practice field. Doing so was only ever painful; he'd learned _that_ quick enough. Seeing the druid made speaking to him all the more tempting, and Merlin couldn't have that. So he did his best to completely ignore the youngest knight of Camelot.

"Hand me that towel, will you?"

Merlin stopped. He felt as if his heart simply stopped beating for a moment, before shattering like a broken mirror. All his hard work to push aside his feelings, _ruined_ by _one sentence_ uttered in the most _wonderful voice to have ever been created_.

Gritting his teeth, Merlin did not make a reply. He did not even look at the body of whose presence his _own_ body was highly aware—that was evident in his pulse, rising temperature, and sweaty hands—he merely grabbed the cloth and tossed it in the right direction. The manservant dug his fingernails into his palms, closed his eyes, and began counting up to twenty in order to control his impulse to just turn around and talk to Mordred.

"Thank you. Merlin."

The number four vanished instantly from Merlin's mind; his eyes flashed open with shock. If he'd felt his heart shatter only moments before, now he could feel it slowly shredding itself into thin strips before lighting itself on fire and burning mercilessly within its encasement.

That name. It sounded so wrong coming from Mordred's lips. _Never_ before had Mordred called him "Merlin". Now, Merlin wished he never had.

And he understood. He understood _perfectly_ what it meant. It was Mordred's childish—well, perhaps it wasn't childish, but it satisfied Merlin to think so—act of defiance. It was Mordred's way of saying, "I don't love you."

Merlin spun around, but Mordred was no longer standing there. His eyes searched until they found the young knight. He stared at the back of Mordred's head, and he felt a sensation in his chest—a sad one, one that usually preceded tears. But no. There was no way that Merlin was going to cry here. He would not embarrass himself, and he _certainly_ wouldn't give Mordred that satisfaction.

It angered him to see how Mordred began to talk to Arthur, smiling casually. It was like he didn't even _care_! Like it just didn't affect him at all, and he couldn't be bothered to care that he had left Merlin a depressed wreck.

These thoughts of anger and self-pity were quelled when he saw that Arthur and Mordred were preparing to duel one another. Merlin's heart began thumping again, anxious. Watching Mordred draw a sword on the king wrenched Merlin's memory of the seer's vision from the back of his mind and made him relive each agonizing second.

Merlin momentarily forgot all of his own pain as he kept a close eye on the fight, watching out for Arthur the whole time.

* * *

Mordred was angry, and hurt. He oughtn't to have been surprised, he supposed. Merlin had been carefully avoiding him all this time. It wasn't as if he would willingly speak to Mordred, not even if Mordred spoke first.

The older man's silence and refusal to even turn around had driven a spike into Mordred's heart. It was a clear sign to Mordred that any hope was futile.

It wasn't that he'd had much hope to begin with, but he had allowed himself to cling to just the tiniest bit. Mordred had allowed himself to think that maybe, just _maybe_, Merlin would change his mind, would realize that he loved Mordred too much to be apart from him.

But Mordred finally knew now. Merlin would never come back to him. Mordred was alone, and he always would be. Well, if that was the case, there was only one thing to do. He would have to get over it. Somehow, unless he wanted to live forever in a depression over his broken heart, Mordred needed not to love Merlin anymore. If such a thing was possible.

So he decided to take the first steps.

"Thank you. Merlin."

There. He'd said it. The words felt like a lie, but it was a lie that he would need to feed himself from now on. Perhaps if Mordred tried hard enough, he could convince himself that Merlin was just Merlin, not Emrys. It was Emrys, after all, that Mordred loved. So if he ever had any hope of moving on, he needed to get used to the new name.

Mordred's thoughts were a dark whirl as he walked away from the warlock, though he kept a perfect mask in place. Rather than wallow in sadness, Mordred clung, as usual, to his feelings of anger and frustration. Those emotions were so much simpler to deal with when trying to maintain one's sanity.

And did Mordred take out some of his pent-up frustration on Arthur during their practice bout? Possibly. But it didn't matter; no one noticed. A certain level of intensity was _expected_ during such things, and it wasn't as if Mordred was good enough yet to actually pose a threat to His Highness. Not with a sword, at least.

After Arthur knocked him on his backside and helped him back up, Mordred was pleased to see how Arthur treated him as a friend. He was glad of it. He truly was very fond of Arthur. For all his faults, he was a brave and compassionate man, filled to the brim with life, always ready with a winning smile and laugh.

It almost—_almost_—amused Mordred to see Merlin's look of displeasure when Arthur completely ignored his manservant as he walked past with Mordred. On a petty level, it _did _make Mordred gleeful, still angry as he was. But he couldn't _truly_ take pleasure in it because he knew all too well _why_ Merlin became so tense every time the druid stood near Arthur now, and why their camaraderie bothered him.

Mordred wished that the warlock would relax. Hadn't Mordred made it perfectly clear that he liked Arthur and had no intention to hurt him? His primary goal was, in fact, to _help _the king. Surely that ought to be reassuring enough, at least for now.

* * *

"What do you think of young Mordred?" Arthur asked suddenly. His manservant tensed, trying not to think of his cruel interaction with Mordred earlier that day.

_Well… I love him, but I don't trust him at all. With my heart _or _with you_, Merlin thought immediately.

"He's uh… making progress," he answered diplomatically.

"He has all the makings of a fine knight, don't you think?"

_Oh yes, in the same way that Agravaine had all the makings of a fine royal advisor._

"There are many fine knights in Camelot," he said. Well, it wasn't really an answer to the question, but it wasn't a lie. And perhaps if he kept this simple, Arthur would drop the topic soon. Discussing Mordred—even just _thinking_ about him—was simply too much for Merlin right now.

"Yes, but if I'm not mistaken, he'll be one of the finest. And I'm determined he will receive nothing but encouragement from me."

_Of course you are. Because this situation wasn't already awful enough _before_ you grew excessively fond of Mordred. _Merlin sighed. When had his life become this complicated?

Merlin almost laughed out loud. It'd become this complicated the moment he set foot in Camelot, whether or not he'd known it. No use bemoaning his fate _now_.

A smack in the face broke Merlin from his musings. He made a face as Arthur's jacket fell into his hands, and tried his best to focus his thoughts solely on his current occupation, shaking Mordred free from his mind.

* * *

Merlin didn't know what to do. He _couldn't_ stop thinking of Mordred. Sometimes he was filled with thoughts of love and admiration for the young man, and sometimes he was filled with anxiety and dread at the thought of Mordred's fate. Often, he was filled with both, and if that wasn't infuriatingly confusing, Merlin didn't know _what _was.

Now, with Arthur practically singing Mordred's praises, he felt more uncomfortable than ever. Should he do nothing, and hope that the future in which Mordred killed Arthur never came to pass? Or should he warn Arthur and/or continue to keep tabs on Mordred as a suspicious person?

Finally, Merlin decided to consult his adoptive father. He wanted to gauge Gaius' thoughts on the matter. Well, if he were being honest with himself, what he _truly_ wanted was to hear Gaius give support to the druid man. That would raise Merlin's spirits, to know that someone he trusted thought well of Mordred. It would set his mind at ease, strengthen the side of him that desperately wanted to feel justified in his affections for Mordred. Perhaps if Merlin spoke firmly from his suspicious side, Gaius would do the opposite, and take up Mordred's defense.

Merlin felt a bit bad about knowingly trying to manipulate the discussion, but he shoved those feelings aside. So _what_ if his plan was a little manipulative? Gaius would never say anything he didn't mean. Merlin was just… setting up the conversation so he could hear what he wanted. There was nothing wrong with that.

Merlin glanced over at the physician as they started to work on the chores together. They weren't talking about anything yet; now was the perfect time. He took a moment to compose himself. Inhaling deeply, the warlock allowed all his fears revolving about Mordred to surface, so that they were spinning in his mind.

He was ready to play the part of suspicious Merlin.

"I think that Arthur is really growing fond of Mordred," he began carefully.

"Well, I can see why. The boy works hard, and he always seems very pleasant."

"Yes, he does. But…" Merlin grimaced, searching for the right words. "I don't know, I just feel like Arthur's being too hasty. He already seems prepared to treat Mordred as one of Camelot's finest knights."

"You think he's not ready?" was the surprised question.

"It's not that. He's an excellent swordsman," Merlin answered honestly.

"You think he's too young, too headstrong?"

"He's always been thoughtful and modest," he said, his thoughts of Mordred warming as he did so. _And cheeky to boot, but only with me, _he added fondly, allowing himself a moment of feeling special.

"The boy sounds perfect, Merlin."

"I can't ignore what I saw. Gaius, Mordred is destined to play a part in Arthur's death." Merlin made the words sound severe and definite. If Gaius _still _defended Mordred, perhaps there really _was _hope.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. The future has many paths, and that is only one. Have you ever seen him show anything but kindness towards Arthur?"

Merlin rejoiced internally, but tried to argue all the same, with "No, but-"

"If Mordred wished Arthur ill, he's had ample opportunity to do so. He's a likeable boy, Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed.

"I know." Merlin couldn't even restrain himself from smiling and nodding slightly now. This was _exactly_ what he'd wanted to hear. "I like him myself." Merlin held back laughter at his own remark. Too bad no one else was there to appreciate Merlin's amusing understatement. But staying in character, he continued on to say, "But I can't ignore what I saw."

"Seeing is not the same as knowing, and we must know, for certain, before we act," instructed Gaius.

Those words left Merlin a bit unsettled. _Must know _what_, Gaius? Because I know much more than you and _still_ don't know what to do, _he thought uneasily. He tried not to allow his thoughts to wander in that direction: he much preferred to focus on the fact that his adoptive father had given approval to the man he loved, and so he chose to drift into daydreams of Mordred. For the first time in a while, it didn't pain him to do so.

* * *

"Mordred!" Morgana seemed surprised, but pleased, to see him. She sat up in her bed as he smiled and came to sit on a chair near her.

As he had done several times since his first meeting with Morgana, the knight had walked to visit her during the night. She was no longer situated in the cave; now that she'd fully regained her strength, she had moved to a small cottage much nearer to the castle, to make visiting easier for Mordred. This way he could sneak out in the middle of the night without needing to take a horse.

"What are you doing here? You came only a few days ago. Surely it is risky for you to come so often."

"Perhaps you're right," allowed Mordred, with a shy smile. "I just hate to be apart from you. I suffered long months alone before I found you again. And now that I have… I like to see you as much as I can."

"Still. You mustn't take too many risks, or you'll be caught, and everything will be ruined."

"Indeed. I know you are right, Morgana. I'm sorry. I should not have put you in danger by coming tonight."

"Let's think on it no longer," said the sorceress kindly. "You're here now. I'm always glad when you come to see me."

"How have you been?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected."

"Are you still having the nightmares? Of the pit?"

Morgana stiffened, looking melancholy and weak. "Every night. It doesn't matter what I do, they always return. I don't think I'll ever be rid of them."

"I'm sorry, Morgana," said Mordred softly. "You are strong to bear them so bravely."

"Well there's little else I can _do_, _is_ there," she snapped. Her fiery eyes locked on his, and she was startled by the quiet sadness there. Her insides twisted with guilt. "I'm… sorry, Mordred. Truly. This is… all so new to me, still. I find myself…"

"Forgetting that I care about you?" he completed gently. Morgana said nothing. "Don't worry, I understand. You need time. I'm willing to give you that. That's why I suggested we start out slowly. Reacquaint ourselves with each other."

"Yes. I'm glad you did. Tell me, what goes on in Camelot?" Morgana didn't even try to keep the bite from her tone.

"There's not much to tell. Everything is very placid, and peaceful."

"Sounds absolutely dreadful," remarked Morgana with a smirk. Mordred smiled back.

"Yes, it _can_ get rather dull. I think all of the knights are itching for a bit of excitement, even the king."

"Well. By the sound of it, my brother must almost be _wishing _for my return. I hope I may soon oblige him."

"Morgana…" Mordred started hesitantly, "there is something I… wish to ask you."

"Go on. You may ask me anything you like," encouraged the witch.

"You see… I remember well how it was when I first met you. You and Arthur clearly didn't… see perfectly eye to eye, but there was affection there. I understand why you turned against your father [Morgana became rigid], but I never was told the story of what came between you and Arthur to begin with."

"It's quite a long story to tell," was the sharp reply.

"In the effort of getting to know you better, I'd like to hear it. _If_… it wouldn't bother you too much."

Morgana spent a moment considering this, forcing her muscles to relax. "I suppose it could do no harm," she allowed finally. "Alright. I will tell you. You know already of our childish spats and differences, of course."

"Of course."

"Those aside, I suppose it truly began when Camelot received a visitor one night. Her name was Morgause."


	10. Gravity

_Author's Note: I'm truly taken aback by the response this story has gotten. Thank you all so much. Please continue to leave reviews with your thoughts! Any questions, comments, or concerns are welcome. I'm happy to answer any questions you have about the story or the show (just be sure to be logged in so I can PM you). WARNING: More spoilers from season 5 episode 5. Also, sorry if this chapter or the next bother anyone with how much is taken straight from the show. I felt that many scenes in that episode were very important to include, and I do think I added some extra details to each one, so it shouldn't seem TOO boring and repetitive._

* * *

Merlin was unhappy that Mordred had been invited on the patrol searching for the sorcerer Osgard, that much was clear. Mordred could tell just by glancing over that the manservant was trying to talk Arthur into leaving Mordred behind.

_Two-faced man-child,_ he thought unkindly. It really did hurt him, to be met with such unfair disapproval from his ex-lover. Not too long ago, Merlin would have been _proud_ of him, _happy_ that he'd gotten this chance to prove himself.

But now, oh no, that wasn't the case anymore. Now it would seem that Merlin strove to make Mordred's life miserable in every way possible: first by distancing himself and now by trying to influence Arthur to take away Mordred's hard-earned privileges.

And then they were riding out. Merlin rode past him, their blue eyes locking for but a second. His anger vanished, replaced with deep sadness and longing.

Damn.

* * *

"Are you certain? This seems rather… odd," said Mordred timidly, once he'd turned around in his saddle.

"It is a tradition," Leon announced.

"Goes back years!" added Elyan.

"We all had to do it on our first patrol," Percival contributed.

"Mordred, what on earth are you doing?" Arthur's judgmental voice rang out from the front of the group. Mordred turned to look at him with surprise, his face the picture of innocence.

"Melding the saddle, milord," answered Mordred, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Merlin's insides twisted uneasily. Why was Mordred acting like this? First he'd humored the knights by pretending to look for his "missing" items, and now he was "melding the saddle". It made Merlin uncomfortable. He was tempted to just _ask_ the young man, but he restrained himself.

"As in the ancient tradition… of melding," Gwaine reminded the king.

"Ah, of course," said Arthur. "I trust your breeches are on inside out."

"My lord?" returned Mordred, confused and seeming a bit worried.

The other knights laughed brightly. Merlin's insides twisted even further. Thus far he'd made a valiant effort to hold back, to fight against all his desires, to resist the compelling urge to speak to Mordred—but now he finally lost the battle as he caved in to his curiosity, his need to understand.

_Why are you doing this?_ Merlin asked suspiciously, glancing back at the younger man. As soon as Mordred's eyes met his, Merlin turned back around in his saddle, attempting to remain inconspicuous.

Mordred's heart was pounding against the cage of his chest. Merlin was speaking to him. _Merlin was speaking to him_! All he'd wanted for several long weeks—and finally, here it was. He conveniently forgot how frustrated he'd been with Merlin earlier that very day. Now, Merlin's low voice inside his head was more welcome than a cold beverage on a hot day.

Mordred restrained his smile. It wouldn't do to show how much Merlin's simple act was affecting him. No, he needed to go the route of normalcy, act as if he was just the same as ever. That shouldn't be too hard. In fact, it was easier to be his normal self, now that Merlin was speaking to him again, because one more thing was now right with the world.

_What do you mean?_ was his innocent reply, therefore.

_This. All of it. Why are you playing along with them? You aren't this gullible, not by a long shot. Why pretend and willingly embarrass yourself?_

_It was you who encouraged me to seek friendship, Merlin. _Mordred seemed faintly amused._ What's a little embarrassment compared to building those bonds? Is this not increasing their goodwill towards me?_

_I told you to be _yourself. _This isn't you. Not the real you, _Merlin corrected.

_So? Perhaps I like to make them happy. They would not be smiling and laughing this way had I not pretended to be taken in by their pranks._

…_Really? You're… trying to make them happy?_

_It may surprise you to learn, Merlin, that I have been, of late, developing stronger ties of friendship to my fellow knights. I find their company remarkably less irritating than I initially did, as you predicted. _The druid sounded impressively calm and mature for a young man who was essentially admitting that he'd been dead wrong._ I enjoy playing this game. It's simple, and it pleases them. Besides, I have many faces. I do not entirely dislike this one. It can be a nice escape._

_Escape from what?_

_Everything_.

_If I wanted cryptic answers, I'd go talk to Kilgharrah._

Mordred released a bright laugh, and Merlin couldn't help his resulting smile or the butterflies that erupted in his stomach. He stomped down angrily on those reactions.

_Calm down, Merlin,_ he growled to himself. _Stop letting yourself be affected that way. Besides, he might have just been laughing at something that one of the others said. That's certainly what it looks like _they _think._

_Apologies, _Mordred continued their conversation, as if Merlin was not in the middle of losing an internal battle against his own feelings._ Perhaps it would be better to say that it is simplest to interact with the other knights with this mask on, and as long as I am in the role, I do not have to worry about my love for you or anything that has happened between us._

_Well that's… very direct of you._

_I thought that's what you wanted?_

_Look… Never mind. I just… I've got to go._

Mordred glanced over his shoulder at Merlin, who was now striking up conversation with the king. Mordred was quite prickled. First he was being too cryptic, and then he was being too direct? Was Merlin _never_ satisfied?

Mordred sighed. It was because he'd mentioned his feelings. He knew that. But still… it hardly seemed fair! And how unfortunate too. Up until that point, they'd been having quite a pleasant talk, especially considering they hadn't had a legitimate conversation in weeks.

_Well then_, thought Mordred, _If I want to get him to relax around me once more, I'll just have to be sure not to make any reference to my feelings or our relationship when I next get a chance to speak with him._

Having now promised himself to do just that, Mordred pushed aside his thoughts of Arthur's manservant, and easily joined in the banter between his… friends.

* * *

"It is not too late, Arthur," Osgard said. "Not too late to find the true path. Redeem yourself. No further chance shall be given." And with that, the wounded sorcerer fell onto the forest floor, and died.

The words of the dead man rang in Merlin's mind, freezing him with shock. _It is both judgment and fate… No further chance shall be given…_ Merlin's thoughts began to scream with an unhappy conclusion.

His eyes were drawn to Mordred like a magnet. _No further chance shall be given. _The young knight looked just as taken aback as Merlin felt, and his eyes traveled upwards from Osgard and met Merlin's gaze.

Merlin's eyes moved away immediately. _No further chance shall be given. _His heart pounded with fear, but he forced his expression to remain blank.

Merlin knew that there was likely only one conclusion that Mordred could draw from Osgard's last words: if Arthur did not change his path _now_, then his fate was sealed. If he failed this test, then the time had come… for his death.

* * *

Mordred observed the man he loved from behind. Merlin was setting stones to mark the grave of Osgard. A rush of pride filled Mordred from head to toe. He felt proud that Merlin, _his _Merlin, was noble and considerate enough to do this deed. Truly, no one else could even compare to the warlock. Mordred shoved aside his sharp pang of hurt and regret and _longing_.

Not wanting to startle—or irritate—Merlin, the knight approached him slowly, quietly.

A twig snapped.

Merlin's head turned round, and he stared at Mordred. Calmly, Mordred asked, "What would the king say? Sorcerers are not permitted marked graves."

The words—like any normal jest he would make to Merlin—sounded much too flat once they came out of Mordred's mouth, lacking the teasing lilt that had become common in his conversations with Arthur's manservant. Mordred flinched internally. It was hardly surprising, he supposed, given the tense state of their relationship.

Even so, Mordred was hurt to see that Merlin seemed to become nervous at his words. Had his confidence in Mordred already been shaken so much? Could he not perceive the teasing intent, even if the tone hadn't quite been there?

"It's alright, Merlin. I'd have done the same," he assured quickly. Mordred paused as their eyes met. _How much can be conveyed in a single look? _he wondered. Did Merlin know that Mordred was hurt by his lack of faith? Did he know that Mordred was proud of his ex-lover's actions? Did he have any idea how badly Mordred wanted to simply stride to his side and kiss him?

There was a slight pause as these considerations flashed through Mordred's mind, before he continued, "He was one of us, after all."

The two men stared down at the grave together, in silence, both wishing they could comfort each other with a touch, a grasp of the hands. But the physical space between them seemed riddled with electricity, and impassable.

There were so many unspoken words between them. Mordred desperately wanted to be reassured of Merlin's feelings—just to be sure they had not changed. He could live with only that, but this not knowing for sure was killing him. Even if they couldn't be together, Merlin _had _to be in love with him. Mordred couldn't even contemplate living without Merlin's love.

But he couldn't speak the words to ask. Not out loud, and not telepathically. He was hesitant of doing anything to upset the older man, and clearly speaking of it earlier had bothered him. No; if any such words were to be exchanged, Merlin would have to initiate it.

Which seemed unlikely.

"It won't always be like this. One day we'll live in freedom again," said Merlin quietly. Mordred lifted his eyes and was surprised at the intensity with which Merlin was meeting his gaze. His surprise increased exponentially when Merlin continued to speak, but now telepathically, saying, _Arthur will make it so, before the time comes that you feel you have to kill him._

Stunned, Mordred could only manage to say, "You really believe that?"

"I do." Merlin paused ever so slightly, then: _I have to._

Mordred knew with certainty that Merlin was still fully prepared to battle him for Arthur's life if the time came. This firm declaration, therefore… If he was unwilling to even _consider_ that future as being possible… Didn't that imply… Surely it meant that Merlin still loved him? Loved him too much to even entertain the thought of being forced to kill him, even to protect Arthur, which was the noblest of all causes in Merlin's mind?

Mordred's heart swelled. It wasn't quite a declaration of love, but it was good enough for him.

_And when that day comes, we can be together again, _the druid thought in return. He turned his eyes from the grave to Merlin.

"Until then…" he continued lightly, "we go unmarked in death as in life."

A tender smile bloomed on Mordred's face before he turned and left Merlin alone at the grave. He felt satisfied with how the conversation had gone. Perhaps Merlin _could_ stand to hear of their relationship after all. That was promising. This meant that some of the boundaries he'd thought existed didn't. From now on, he'd speak to Merlin as he normally would, and hope that all remained well between them. He truly did miss their playful flirting and banter. Perhaps Merlin would allow for that?

Left behind, Merlin understood the layered meaning behind Mordred's statement: not only unmarked by recognition and acceptance for being sorcerers, but also unmarked by _love_, because it was Arthur's refusal to accept magic that was keeping them apart.

_No_, he wanted to protest, _You're still marked with my love… I just can't show it. _But he did not speak these words, _could _not speak them. To do so would be to betray all his hard work in distancing them. He shouldn't even have been so clear with his feelings as he had in that exchange. From now on, Merlin would have to more closely monitor their conversations.

So Merlin watched in pained silence as the man to whom his heart still fiercely clung walked away.

* * *

"How is he?" Arthur inquired of Gwaine.

"I've applied poultices. He'll make a full recovery," replied Merlin.

"You're a skilled physician, Merlin," Mordred complimented, smiling. _Another of your many talents, I see._

Merlin tensed, trying to ignore his instinct to smile. Was Mordred _flirting _with him? "I watch Gaius, that's all," he said, shooting down the attempt. To Mordred alone he firmly added, _Stop it._

"He also makes a very fine breakfast, as you'll soon discover, eh, Merlin?"

The manservant was barely paying notice to Arthur's jibes because, at the same time, Mordred was whispering, _Learn to take a compliment, _in his mind, repeating Merlin's own words from some time ago back to him.

_You know that's not what I was referring to, _Merlin said, clenching his teeth. How did Mordred get off thinking that this was ok? They weren't together anymore! Merlin needed _distance_ from Mordred, especially when he felt as paranoid as he currently did about fate. What he _didn't_ need were these sweet little reminders of why, in spite of everything, he was still completely in love with the druid man.

"Now I've offended him." Mordred chuckled at Arthur's assumption, and Merlin only became more annoyed. "Come, Merlin, warm yourself. [_Yes, come, Merlin._] Have a drink. [_Relax._] To young Mordred, on his first successful mission."

"It was nothing," Mordred protested modestly.

"It was timely and vigilant. Merlin?" encouraged Arthur.

Despite his proximity to the fire, Merlin felt cold. He needed to make Mordred back down, before he really lost it.

_An innocent sorcerer just died, _Merlin pointed out harshly. "Congratulations." _Welcome to the ranks of standing by and doing nothing._

That shut Mordred up.

"If he died and was granted eternal happiness, I do believe he'd find reason to be miserable. Come, Merlin, we've triumphed!" Arthur exclaimed.

Despite his current frustration, Merlin could not help but to remember how Mordred had pushed him to speak to Arthur, try to influence him to see magic in a better light. He knew Mordred was right. And perhaps now was the best time to do it. In fact, it may very well be the _only _time to do it, seeing as if Arthur failed to change his mind _now_, his fate would remain entwined with Mordred. Merlin _had_ to start changing Arthur's perception of magic _immediately. Before_ that could ever happen.

"Osgard could have easily killed you," Merlin said.

"He didn't, did he."

"He was a sorcerer. It was… quite within his power," he pointed out.

"He was deranged," Arthur replied, brushing it off.

"The rune mark?"

"Trinket, nothing more. Here." Merlin caught the golden coin. "I'll have the jeweler mount it as a memento of our success." Merlin turned the rune mark over in his hand.

_See?_ he demanded of Mordred, ignoring the tension between them as his frustrations got the best of him. It felt so natural to turn to Mordred to talk about such things. _Arthur can't be reasoned with. What more am I supposed to do?_

_At least you tried,_ the knight replied softly. Merlin looked up and met his eyes. They were surprisingly gentle. Merlin swallowed as a rush of happy memories hit him. _I can ask no more of you than that._

Merlin turned back to the fire, and their communication ended. Mordred's words had calmed him, soothed his anger. The warlock sighed. That was how things were _meant_ to be. If only this stupid fate business wasn't getting in their way.

But it was. And there was nothing Merlin could do to change that.

* * *

Merlin wanted to know more about the rune mark. What exactly did it mean? Gaius knew a good deal about the Disir, but even his knowledge didn't satisfy Merlin. He needed to know more. Gaius seemed to know what judgment was being made, but he had nothing to say on the fate that the rune mark gave to Arthur.

Merlin's first thought was to ask Mordred. The druid did, after all, study runes, didn't he? This ought to be something he would know about.

But Merlin couldn't bring himself to do it. Seeking out Mordred was seeking out trouble. He especially felt it unwise to speak at all with Mordred about Arthur's fate. So he decided to get his information from a different source.

"You were right to summon me, Merlin," Kilgharrah proclaimed. "The Disir are the mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess. It is she who has decried Arthur's fate."

"What is it to be?" Merlin asked.

"The rune mark predicts Arthur's death."

Merlin's blood ran cold. It was just as he'd feared. "When? When will Arthur die?"

"The future is never clear, Merlin, you should know _that_ by now. There are many paths. Not all lead to Camelot's ruin."

"_Do_ they lead to Mordred?" Merlin asked bluntly.

"The druid boy. His fate and Arthur's are bound together like ivy round a tree," divulged the dragon.

"I fear he is dangerous."

"There is good cause to doubt him," agreed the dragon.

"Is there nothing I can do?" asked Merlin. He was desperate. Desperate for a way to change the future so there would no longer be cause to doubt Mordred, and both Mordred and Arthur could live. His heart sank as the dragon uttered his next words.

"Sometimes… to save the tree… the ivy must be cut," he advised. At Merlin's silence, the Great Dragon continued on passionately. "You had a chance to kill the druid boy once before. If you have another, you _must not_ _fail_."

Merlin's eyes flickered away as Kilgharrah took to the skies. There was an undeniable twisting in his stomach, making him feel ill. The dragon's words had been so… final. He had made it sound as if there was no hope to change the fate shared by Mordred and Arthur. Merlin didn't want to think it, didn't want to believe it, but he also couldn't just ignore what Kilgharrah had said.

If the dragon was right, then maybe, because of the rune mark, fate was set permanently. Or perhaps—and this was almost too painful to consider—Mordred had been planning to follow this path all along and never had the intention to do any differently. In which case, Merlin had been played.

_No_, he assured himself firmly. _It was real. I know it was. It still is._

But did he truly _know_ that? Mordred was an excellent actor; he'd seen it for himself. Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table certainly had no inkling that Mordred was not all he seemed. Merlin had assumed that he was the only one seeing Mordred's true self, but what if, just _what if_, he was wrong? What if he had been fooled even more thoroughly than they? What if he was in love with someone who was only pretending to reciprocate?

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remain in control and breathe properly. Now was not the time to have some sort of emotional breakdown. He had to stay in control of his mind, so that he could think rationally and do whatever was best for Arthur, no matter if his heart said something else.

* * *

As Merlin had known he would, Arthur took the rune mark seriously. Soon enough, after speaking once more with Gaius, the king declared that they would be setting out to find the Disir within the hour. After speaking briefly with Gaius and getting dressed, Merlin rushed out after his master, following him back to his chambers.

"This mission. It could be dangerous," he stated, helping Arthur to prepare.

"Afraid, Merlin?" teased Arthur.

"Yes," was the blunt, honest answer. "And I think you should be as well." Arthur was silent, his amused expression having faded away. "Which, uh… which knights are you bringing with you?"

"I need my best men. Leon, Percival, Gwaine, and Elyan will all be at my side, as well as a few others."

"Is one of those others going to be Mordred?"

"No."

"Why not?" Merlin pressed.

"Why are you so interested in Sir Mordred?" cried Arthur confusedly.

"I'm not! I just… know that he will want to come."

"And what does it matter to you?"

"Well, I think you should let him."

Arthur made an irritated face at his manservant. "Weren't you the one who _didn't_ want Mordred to come along last time?"

"I was wrong."

"That's nothing new."

"I'm just saying, I think he proved himself! And you _know _he'll want to be there. He'll object to being left behind."

Arthur's expression softened at Merlin's claim and he nodded. "Yes, he's always demonstrated a great deal of loyalty and ambition. But this trip isn't suitable for a knight as young as he is. As you said, it could be dangerous. And we cannot know in exactly what ways." The king sighed. "No. Mordred will not be coming."

Merlin ached with disappointment. It had been a difficult decision, whether or not he wanted the druid man to join the mission, but in the end he'd made up his mind firmly.

Whatever Mordred's intentions were or were not, at this time he was still playing the role of the devoted young knight, and he had no reason to break character _now_. He truly was an excellent swordsman. Those skills combined with his magic would make him a great asset to have along. Since Merlin didn't know exactly what dangers they would be facing, he would feel much safer with another practiced sorcerer in their midst, helping him to protect Arthur. Besides, best to keep Mordred in Merlin's sight, where he would be unable to get up to mischief without the warlock knowing, right?

Having logically arrived at this decision, Merlin then allowed himself to realize that, emotionally as well, he wanted to have Mordred come. While he was still confused and agonizingly torn up over the situation, he wouldn't lie to himself. And the simple truth was that he still loved Mordred, and he'd rather be in his company than not. Merlin liked to have him near, because… well… simply because it made him happy.

But none of that mattered, because Arthur refused to invite his youngest knight along. So Merlin pushed the issue aside, and finished helping the king prepare for the journey ahead.

* * *

_Good morning, Merlin_.

Surprised, Merlin turned round. He was even more surprised to see Mordred fully dressed, with horse saddled, as if he were coming on the mission. Merlin wondered momentarily if Arthur had changed his mind, but then realized that Arthur hadn't been apart from him long enough in the last hour to have done so without Merlin knowing.

_He won't let you_, he called out, quickly understanding the younger man's plan. _Trust me, I already tried. _

Mordred was pleasantly surprised by this news. He hadn't expected Merlin to be on his side. _Watch and learn_, he replied sassily. He was near the king now.

"My lord, you are going to the White Mountains?"

"I am," affirmed Arthur.

"Then I humbly petition to go _with_ you."

"This is not for novices, Mordred," was the reply.

The knight paused for but a moment. "Did I not serve you well?" Mordred asked pointedly, knowing the answer.

"You did."

"Then I will do again," said Mordred with calm confidence.

"This is no mere sorcerer this time," explained Arthur, finally turning around from his horse. "Our mission is dangerous, in ways we cannot perhaps imagine."

"Then you will need good men by your side," he pointed out. Arthur looked at him thoughtfully. "Let me serve, let me do my duty." There was a pause as Arthur considered the young man's words. By now, the interaction had gained an audience, including Merlin and some of the other knights. As Arthur looked his way, Merlin averted his eyes, pretending he wasn't listening in. Then-

"Merlin! See to it he has everything he needs."

Mordred smiled gratefully, as Merlin smiled and nodded his acceptance. Mordred made his way over to the warlock.

"How did I do?" he murmured. Merlin chuckled. A part of him felt that he should be _concerned_ at how easily his ex-lover had manipulated the king, but he felt more impressed than anything else.

"That was quite impressive," admitted Merlin. "It seems that you've tamed the stubborn king." Merlin couldn't help but to notice the way that Mordred's stunning eyes lit up as he released a merry laugh. To hide his smile, Merlin turned to Mordred's horse to make sure that he was fully prepared, as Arthur had instructed.

"No need. I'm fully prepared, trust me," said Mordred.

"You may have forgotten something. I should at least check-"

"Merlin." The older man cut off as Mordred placed a hand on his shoulder. His mind was rendered blank by the first physical contact they had shared in weeks. "Trust me. It's alright."

Reluctantly, Mordred drew his hand away. What he wouldn't give to reach out and grab Merlin's hand with his own. But even what he'd just done had been enough to cause his pulse to pick up excitedly.

"Uh… right. Yeah, I'm sure you've got what you need," said Merlin, flustered. Trying to maintain composure, he briskly turned to walk away, past Mordred.

As he did so, Merlin's hand accidentally brushed lightly against Mordred's. His fingers flinched at the soft touch, but a shiver of delight ran all the way up his arm and his heart began to beat faster. Steeling himself, Merlin hurried away to his own horse, fully aware that Mordred was watching him go.

* * *

As per usual, Arthur ignored Merlin's warnings. Refusing to disarm himself, Arthur strode past his motionless manservant, and the other knights followed suit. As Mordred passed by, he shot Merlin a glance. Their shared concern was clear in that one quick look. Almost instinctively, Merlin walked into the cave right behind Mordred.

After a brief walk through the darkness, with only Merlin and Mordred taking care not to blunder through the hanging objects, the group came upon three cloaked figures, staffs in hand, standing in an open space. The Disir.

"I'm Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. I've come to know the meaning of this," said Arthur, holding up the rune mark. Merlin's eyes widened as Arthur tossed the coin forward, carelessly, onto the dirty cave floor. Anxiously he listened as Arthur continued on to question the right of the Disir to judge him. Apparently Gaius' words about respecting the beliefs of others hadn't had enough of an impact.

"Explain yourselves," Arthur finished.

Merlin felt a shiver go through him as the women began to speak. They spoke in turns, but they were so synchronized with each other that it felt like they were one person speaking through three mouths. Well, essentially they _were_. The Disir were only mouthpieces for the Triple Goddess, like the Great Dragon had said.

Merlin listened to Arthur and the Disir go back and forth, the Disir telling that the kingdom would come to ruin if Arthur did not accept the Old Religion, and Arthur telling that he only fought against sorcery and superstition.

_They are right, but Arthur will not see it, _said Mordred's sweet, familiar voice.

Merlin spared a single glance in Mordred's direction, but the young knight's eyes were focused on the audible conversation, so Merlin redirected his eyes there as well.

_I know_, he replied. _I don't see how this can end well._

_At least Arthur is hearing them_, Mordred acknowledged.

_Yeah. Whether or not he admits it, their words will stick with him_, said Merlin semi-confidently. It felt surprisingly natural and pleasant to converse with Mordred this way. He'd definitely missed their telepathic communication during their weeks of silence.

_And that, I suppose, is the best we can hope for._

"I refuse to be judged by those that do not know me!"

Merlin flinched.

"You are known, Arthur. You have always been known," the women proclaimed. A brief silence ensued, before their next condemning words. "And now you come here, to the most sacred of the sacred, to the very heart of the Old Religion, with weapons drawn, trampling hallowed relics, treating our sacred space like you do your kingdom: with arrogance, with conceit, with insolence."

"Enough! You speak of the king!" Gwaine exclaimed angrily, stepping forward. A second later, he was thrown forcefully back, flying through the air.

_Did we know they could do magic? _Mordred asked, his tone dry, as if trying to add a touch of humor to the dark situation.

_Well it doesn't really _surprise_ me_, returned Merlin.

"On me!" cried Arthur.

Then the unthinkable happened. The Disir hurled a spear directly at the king. Merlin did not even hesitate before he prepared to stop the spear with magic.

But someone else got there first.

Mordred leapt in the path of the spear, and it struck him. Face twisted in pain, he collapsed to the ground. Merlin could only look on, stunned by Mordred's actions. He was too shocked to even register his emotions. He felt entirely blank. He thought nothing. He felt nothing.

"Merlin!" Arthur's roar woke him up, and Merlin rushed over to the fallen man, his heart pounding, but the other knights had already grabbed him. "Fall back!"

Merlin watched them go, watched as they practically dragged the wounded Mordred away. Mordred. Beautiful Mordred. Paler than ever, sweating, clearly still in agony…

Merlin was filled with rage. How _dare_ these women hurt Mordred! How could _that_ be the will of the Triple Goddess? Mordred was one of the two members of their group that actually _supported_ the Old Religion and _practiced sorcery_! How dare they attack their own! And _how dare they hurt Mordred!_

The warlock stared at the Disir and watched, unsurprised, as they hurled a spear his way. Clearly they weren't content with harming _one _of the two men who supported their cause, they were determined to harm _both_.

Blue eyes flashed momentarily gold and the spear clattered harmlessly against the wall. Merlin was tempted to stay and attack, but he knew that this was foolish on many levels, so after fixing the Disir with one last steely gaze, he ran out after Arthur and the rest.


	11. In Which Sacrifices Are Made

_Author's Note: We made it over 100 reviews! That's an awesome milestone, guys! I hope we can keep raising those numbers *wink wink*. In all honesty, thank you all so much. It means a lot to me. Please keep it up. WARNING: Even MORE spoilers for season 5 episode 5. Enjoy!_

* * *

As soon as he made it out, Merlin rushed over to examine the extent of Mordred's injury. Mordred tried to focus his eyes on Merlin, but he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, and was, for the most part, unable to. Merlin's heart clenched. He placed his hands on the wound and was unhappy to find the presence of sorcery, as he'd feared.

"How is he?" asked Arthur softly.

Merlin's eyes flickered up to Arthur. "It's not a simple wound; sorcery is involved."

"Is there anything you can do?"

This gave Merlin pause. He reached out with his own magic, testing the feel of the sorcery present in the wound. It might be difficult, but Merlin was fairly sure he could fix it. He already had a spell in mind.

But he couldn't tell Arthur that. He couldn't just use magic in front of everyone. After all the time he'd spent protecting his secret, he couldn't willingly reveal it _now_, no matter how badly he wanted to spare Mordred any further suffering. Mordred would be perfectly able to wait until they returned to Camelot.

"This is beyond my skills, sire," Merlin lied smoothly. "We need to get him back to Camelot."

Arthur tensed, clearly displeased with this, and pressed, "That's a long and arduous journey, what if he doesn't survive it?"

Firmly, Merlin replied, "Look, I fear that Gaius is the only one that can save him." He waited with bated breath as Arthur made up his mind.

"Mount up! We ride for Camelot!"

* * *

Before Merlin left Mordred's side, he placed a firm hand on the wound, pretending to examine it for another brief second. The others were all quickly preparing for the ride. Under cover of the noise they were making, Merlin whispered an incantation, one to reduce the pain. The spell couldn't get rid of it entirely, but Merlin knew it would help.

He usually didn't use this particular spell because he didn't want to arouse suspicion, but Mordred knew the truth about him, so no harm could be done. And Merlin would be damned if he was just going to let the man he loved remain in complete agony when he could do something about it. No way was Mordred dying before they reached Camelot.

As the magic took hold, Merlin rushed away so that the others could take care of Mordred's limp body, but he called out, _I used a spell to dull the pain. Try not to show it._

_Thank you, Merlin_, was the tired and strained reply. Merlin glanced back over his shoulder. Mordred's eyes wavered open, meeting Merlin's for a moment. The striking blue color, accentuated by the slight sheen of water in his eyes, was enough to set Merlin's heart alight. Then the eyelids slid shut.

Merlin stopped. Somehow that simple moment was like a hammer smashing through the delicate wall that was his current thoughts. Upon seeing Mordred get hurt, he'd only been thinking of the fact that he _loved_ Mordred, and that he had to save Mordred, that he couldn't let him die, _wouldn't _let him die. Merlin had focused only on how painful it was to see Mordredin pain because, by all the gods, Merlin _loved_ him.

But when those eyelids slipped down, covering those blue eyes, Merlin started to remember: that wasn't all that he should be thinking about. And now it wasn't. Merlin remembered all his fears and paranoia, all his doubts. He remembered the dragon's warning, his very decisive command.

This was it. This was the _ideal_ opportunity to kill Mordred. All Merlin had to do, was _nothing_. Literally. He just had to stand by and watch it happen.

But could he do that? Could he sacrifice the man he loved?

"Merlin!" The manservant jumped, and turned towards an angry Arthur. "What are you _doing_? Mount up, _now_."

"Sorry, Arthur!" Merlin quickly climbed atop his horse, his mind and heartbeat racing.

_This is the perfect chance_, he told himself. _This is exactly what Kilgharrah was talking about. How can I ignore what he said? He's always been right before. He's _always_ been right… I helped Mordred live once. And now… I can't… _

Merlin inhaled a slow, deep breath. _I can't let him live again. I can't, I just can't. He's going to kill Arthur. He admitted to me that he's willing to do it, and the way things are going, it looks like he really will. Judgment has been passed, fate has been set. Mordred is going to kill Arthur. It doesn't matter that I love him. It doesn't matter. Mordred is going to kill Arthur. Mordred is going to kill Arthur. Mordred is going to kill Arthur!_

_Not if I let him die._

And like that, Merlin's mind was made up. How could he choose any differently and live with himself? His fingernails drove into his palms, his eyes squeezed shut, and every muscle in his body tensed in the effort to keep himself from crying or shaking. He bit down very hard on his tongue and tasted a hint of blood.

Fine. That was better than letting himself explode with anger and hurt and heartbreak in front of everyone. Pain was better.

_Something's troubling you_, commented an insightful voice. Merlin's eyes flashed open and flew to Mordred. The druid still looked awful.

_You're hurt_, was his excuse.

_It's more than that. _Damn Mordred's insightfulness.

_Don't worry about it. You should be worried about _yourself.

_Why? Will worrying about it help my wound heal any faster? _Merlin said nothing._ As I thought. So tell me. Distract me._

The soft plea "_Distract me_" was like a punch in the gut. Surely Merlin could give him that much. He loved Mordred. He'd do anything to help him. Except save his life.

_I just… Well… _Merlin scrambled for some lie to give. One quickly came to mind._ This is a message from the gods, yes? The Triple Goddess speaks through the Disir._

_Yes, and?_

_Well… what are the gods _thinking_? They want Arthur to accept magic, and they think that sending three undeniably eerie women in dark cloaks with odd voices is the best approach? I disliked them _myself_! _Merlin exclaimed._ They certainly didn't dispel the false image in Arthur's mind that all who practice magic are evil. They very easily came off as being evil themselves, _especially_ after they attacked us._

_Perhaps the gods have already tried other ways to change Arthur, but felt that the kind-and-spirited-manservant approach was taking too long_, said Mordred lightly.

There was a pause as Merlin glared at the other man.

_How is it that you manage to be so lucidly judgmental even in this state?_

_Takes my mind off the pain_, was the teasing reply, but Merlin could hear the strain in it.

_Look, I can help you sleep_, Merlin offered, desperately hoping Mordred would take him up on it._ I think it would be best. You won't be in any pain at _all_, which is good._

_If that is what you believe, then by all means. I wouldn't object to a short rest._

Ignoring his clenching stomach, Merlin, after glancing subtly around himself, whispered the incantation quietly and felt satisfied when he saw it take hold.

"Merlin!" came a sudden cry. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur staring at Mordred in anxious concern.

"Yes, sire?" he replied.

"Mordred's lost consciousness!"

Merlin swallowed. "That's… perfectly normal. To be expected even! It's better for him, really. He won't be in pain from the wound if he's asleep. But he _is_ only asleep, I promise. It isn't… permanent. I'm sure that… once we get him back, Gaius will be able to… well, Mordred will wake up, at least." Arthur did not look reassured by this, but he closed his mouth, his jaw set and a determined look in his eyes.

Merlin restrained the tears prickling at his own. It was only because Mordred was so badly injured that the druid knight had been unable to see that Merlin had not revealed what was _truly _on his mind.

Which was grief, to the fullest extent. And guilt. Revulsion. Anguish. Bitterness. Self-loathing.

He could save Mordred. He _knew_ he could.

He also knew now that he _wouldn't_. And he didn't even have the guts to tell Mordred so, or to explain why. Merlin would make sure that Mordred never woke from that sleep, unless it was by some natural means, which he knew was impossible.

It was a coward's way out, Merlin knew it, but he couldn't bear to wake Mordred up just to tell him that he was dying and Merlin was _choosing_ not to save him. Merlin wasn't even sure that he could say the words aloud without stabbing himself. So he didn't bother.

* * *

As the skies grew dark, the band of knights and Merlin settled down for the night. Mordred was laid out gently, still asleep, and Arthur took a seat near him, unwilling to be too far away.

Once he'd got the rest of his things in order, Merlin walked over and placed a delicate hand on Mordred's brow. He wished with all his heart that this touch could be happening under happier contexts. He would give almost anything to see Mordred restored to health so Merlin could be free once more to touch him, hold him, kiss him.

_Almost _anything. Just not Arthur.

Mordred was burning up. This was unsurprising, but it still squeezed Merlin's heart painfully to feel the evidence beneath his hand. The wound was swiftly killing the young druid knight.

"He grows worse," said Arthur in a clipped tone.

Merlin let his hand drop and nodded vaguely, saying, "There has been little change." He rose and started to walk away. It was so painful, seeing Mordred look this way.

"I should never have let him come."

Merlin turned to Arthur with surprise. "He wanted to prove himself," he pointed out.

"And he has," returned Arthur, regarding Mordred's unconscious figure thoughtfully and gratefully. "He saved my life for the _second _time."

Merlin gazed at Arthur, then turned to look instead at Mordred as he crouched down by the fire.

_You did, didn't you? _Merlin thought gently. He'd almost forgotten, given the circumstances. _Your death doesn't seem the proper reward for that. I wish…. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I'm sorry, Mordred. I love you._

He knew the younger man wasn't hearing him, but he felt comforted all the same just speaking the words as if Mordred was listening. Merlin hoped that, despite what the warlock was planning to let happen, Mordred had gone to the end knowing that Merlin loved him. He even considered waking Mordred up just to tell him, to be sure, but he knew it would only make things harder. So Merlin let Mordred sleep on, and he kept his thoughts to himself.

* * *

"Only your magic can save him, Merlin," said Gaius, the moment the king left the room.

"I cannot save the life of a man destined to kill Arthur," Merlin replied, almost mechanically, from his spot across the room. He couldn't bear to be too close to Mordred now, not if he didn't have to.

"If Mordred is destined to take the king's life, why has he just saved it?" Gaius pointed out.

"I cannot ignore what the dragon said," was the answer. Merlin felt distant, empty. He was merely spouting words that he had rehearsed for this moment. He needed to stay unattached. His coldness gave the old physician pause.

"What happened to the young boy who came into my chambers just a few years ago?" Gaius asked, clearly displeased at the change in his pupil.

Words that Mordred had spoken to him that terrible morning echoed in Merlin's mind.

"_You are no longer a child,_" he had said._ "It's time you grew up._"

"He grew up," Merlin said firmly, knowing the irony of his words, even though Gaius didn't. "And he learned the meaning of duty."

Because there was something else that Mordred had said that was coming back to him as well.

"_Sometimes people, even ones we love, must be sacrificed for the greater good_."

At the time, had Mordred realized that Merlin would take his words this way? Did he know that Merlin would soon after be applying those words in relation to Mordred himself?

Probably not. But all the same, Mordred had been right, and, as ironic as it was, Merlin was just following his advice. Surely Merlin couldn't be blamed for that.

Even so, it was difficult to stand behind Gaius, silently, as Gaius lied to Arthur and told him that only the Disir could counteract their own magic. And then the king said something that made Merlin's heart stop.

"I'll go to them. Beg for mercy."

Merlin felt his stomach sink. With extreme difficulty, he had finally accepted his decision to let Mordred die. And now, Arthur was forcing him to go _back_ to the Disir and try to convince them to let Mordred _live_. How on earth could Merlin do that?

But he had no choice. So he did his duty and prepared the horses.

* * *

"Why do you risk so much for one man?" Merlin asked later as they walked side-by-side through the forest.

"I'd do the same for any knight."

"Though obviously, not me."

"Actually, I would," Arthur admitted. "Servants are hard to come by, even the bad ones."

"I'm touched."

"Mordred saved my life. What greater debt can there be?"

"A debt to your people. To your destiny," Merlin pointed out. He was fairly certain that dissuading Arthur from his chosen mission was impossible, but he could try.

"You almost sound as if you _care_."

"I _do_ care. About who you are, Arthur, who you're destined to become."

"It's fated," said Arthur ignorantly. "It doesn't matter _what_ I do, does it, it'll still happen."

"There's a difference between fate and destiny," Merlin tried to say.

Arthur ignored this and turned to him, saying, "You think too much, Merlin. The situation is quite simple." _It's anything _but_ simple_, Merlin thought bitterly. "A brother-at-arms saves my life, he in turn is threatened, it is my duty to do all I can to save him."

The warlock watched unhappily as Arthur walked off. Clearly this conversation was over with. It was time to go face the Disir.

And when they did, this time with no weapons and taking care not to disturb the hallowed relics—_Perhaps Arthur really _is _learning_, Merlin thought happily— nothing happened quite as Merlin had expected it would. He listened in silence as Arthur apologized humbly and made his plea. And then as the Disir in turn demanded something of him.

* * *

Lost in brooding thoughts, Arthur was dead silent as they walked back out of the cave, which suited Merlin just fine. He had a good deal of his own thinking to do.

Merlin thought on the meeting with the Disir from which they came: Arthur had begged for Mordred's life, and the Disir had offered him a deal. But it was not one that Merlin could have foreseen. He had expected the Disir to send Arthur on some mythical and dangerous quest, if anything, in order to save Mordred's life.

But asking for the return of the Old Religion? Merlin had _not_ seen that coming, though perhaps he should have. As soon as the words came out of their oddly synchronized mouths, Merlin felt all his thoughts come to a halt. He was baffled, _stunned_ by this turn of events.

And now that he was thinking on it, allowing the implications to become clear to him, Merlin was… happy. _Exceedingly_ so.

If the deal was that Arthur could save Mordred's life by accepting the Old Religion, then, why, that would be the best deal to have ever been made! A win-win for the warlock.

It might take some effort to convince Arthur, but surely Merlin could play off of his loyalty to his friend, nudge him into thinking that perhaps magic wasn't _all evil_. Then, Arthur could accept the Disir's offer, Mordred would live, and magic would return. With magic back, and Mordred's destiny fulfilled, surely his entwined fate with Arthur would change and he would never kill the king. Everything would be _perfect_.

Those were Merlin's _first _thoughts.

But then the ever-present seed of doubt slipped into his mind. His blood turned cold and his internal glee melted away, leaving a heavy emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Merlin could not forget Kilgharrah's warning, as he had done so often in the past, resulting in dire consequences. The Great Dragon had made no mention of this type of circumstance, no qualifications or conditions, no advice on what to do should this situation arise.

And surely… well, if something like this could work… surely he would have mentioned it when Merlin had asked "Is there nothing I can do?". Kilgharrah had never led him wrong before, even when Merlin had been consistently stubborn and/or foolish enough to ignore him. If this one act—the return of magic—could eliminate the danger posed by Mordred, he would have _said_ so. Wouldn't he?

But he hadn't. The dragon had told Merlin that, _no matter what_, if he had another chance to kill Mordred, he had to take it. There had been no room for discussion, no allowance of doubt over Mordred's death being the one and only proper course.

Was he wrong to trust so much in the Great Dragon's advice? Or was it _Mordred_ that he was wrong to trust so much? What if he chose wrong?

What if he chose to let Mordred live, only to have to kill him later? That would be… infinitely devastating. If he did nothing, and simply let Mordred die… that would be easier. Not easy, not at all, but _easier_, because it required no action on Merlin's part. It would be easier to just let Mordred die from this wound than save him now and be forced to take Mordred's life by his own power later on. Merlin didn't know if he had the strength to do that. Inaction would be easier than action.

But what if he was sacrificing Mordred needlessly? How could he do _that_? He _loved_ Mordred!

The warlock was in severe pain, enormously conflicted over the dilemma. He didn't know what to do, and he knew somehow that if he made the wrong decision, the result would be catastrophic. Merlin almost felt that it was _he_ being tested, not Arthur.

His mind and heart were in silent turmoil as he helped Arthur set up camp for the night. Absentmindedly, the manservant carried a bundle of twigs to set upon the fire.

"How _did_ you know this place was sacred?" Arthur asked, his voice breaking through to Merlin.

"Well it's obvious."

"Pretend it isn't."

Merlin glanced at Arthur then looked all around. He allowed himself to feel the magic present in the place, allowed it to soothe his tempestuous soul. "Everything here is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf, every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself."

"You feel all that?" asked Arthur, clearly walking the line between amazement and disbelief.

"Don't you?" returned Merlin with a gentle expression, almost a smile. Arthur shook his head honestly. Having placed the wood on the campfire, Merlin took a seat on the other side of the flames.

"What will you do?" he asked, breaking the brief silence.

"I don't know," replied Arthur solemnly. "My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred… but I've seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In my _own_ time, Morgana's used it for nothing but evil."

Merlin listened intently, hearing the innate distrust of sorcery in Arthur's voice. It hurt him, but it also reminded him of the very important fact that _Arthur strongly disliked magic_. And yet, through some of his recent actions, Merlin had also seen that Arthur had the potential to change, to become more accepting. But he wasn't there yet. Was he? What would happen if he accepted this deal and allowed the Old Religion to return?

"What would _you_ do, in my place?"

The question took Merlin by surprise, shaking him from his thoughts. "Me? I'm just a lackey, maker of beds."

"Lackeys can be wise."

_He isn't ready_, Merlin decided, his heart breaking at the realization. _If Arthur brings magic back now, not because he thinks it right but because he is being _forced _to, then he will just grow bitter. Despite how honorable he is, Arthur will always do what he thinks is best for Camelot, and if some day he feels that sorcery must be outlawed again, for the safety of his people, he'll do it, despite his agreement with the Disir._

_And then Mordred will still be alive and able to kill him. _

_But… maybe, just _maybe_ I'm wrong. I don't want to let Mordred die; I don't want to let this opportunity pass. Please_… Merlin's eyes flickered, starting to well with tears.

"It's not likeyou to _be_ silent."

"The kingdom's future is at stake," he said honestly, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes.

"And a man's life."

_Two men. Your life is in peril as well, Arthur, you just don't know it. I don't know what to do. What should I do?_

"You must protect Camelot, and you must protect the world you've spent your life building," said Merlin. "A just and fair kingdom for all."

"You'd have me sacrifice a friend?"

Merlin looked away again, on the verge of tears. To Arthur, "just and fair" meant "without magic". Merlin's remaining doubt, his desperate hopes, faded away. Arthur still didn't accept magic, and coercing him into doing so would put all Merlin's hard work to nothing. The point was to change Arthur's opinion on sorcery, not to do something that would only make him more wary and bitter towards it.

"I _would_ have you become the king you're destined to be."

"If I do save Mordred, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will rein once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?"

_More than anything… _Merlin thought, concentrating fiercely to hold back the part of him that wanted nothing more than to speak his thoughts aloud._ But if I say that, Mordred will live, and you will die_.

"Perhaps my father was wrong. Perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought."

_I wish I could tell you, Arthur. I wish I could tell you the truth_.

"So what should we do? Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?"

Knowing his decision, Merlin still hesitated. How could he possibly force the words out of his mouth, the words that would condemn Mordred to death?

_Don't ask this of me, don't make me do this… _he thought desperately. _How can I sacrifice the man I love, and the future I've been fighting for all these years? How can I do it, even though I know it must happen this way?_

Merlin leaned forward towards Arthur, his feelings tearing him apart from the inside out.

_For Arthur. That's how. This is to protect Arthur. In the end, that's what's most important. I'll always protect him. No matter the cost._

Steeling himself, but finally having enough strength to do what must be done, Merlin looked Arthur in the eye, very near to crying, and declared,

"There can be no place for magic in Camelot."

* * *

Arthur and Merlin went back to the Disir the next day, and Arthur pronounced his decision. Merlin shivered as the women proclaimed that Arthur had lost his last chance to save Camelot, to save everything Arthur held dear.

As they journeyed back towards the castle together, Merlin did his best to assure not only Arthur but also himself that they'd made the right choice. That Arthur had sacrificed Mordred for the good of Camelot. That they could have done nothing else.

They rode into the city slowly, all the way into the great stone courtyard, where they reached the end of their long and emotional journey. Merlin and the king dismounted. And then, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Arthur saw him only seconds before Merlin did.

Merlin had prepared himself to come back and find Mordred dead. He'd been prepared to deal with that. He had _not_ been prepared to deal with _this_.

The warlock went into shutdown mode, his last escape when he was feeling _too much_ and knew that he couldn't show it. His body was suddenly immobile and his face was tense and expressionless. On the inside, his emotions ran rampant.

His first emotion was overwhelming shock, followed quickly by raging fear and apprehension, all overpowered quickly by relief, happiness, and _love_. The feelings consumed him like a wildfire.

It was so clear now. More than anything, Merlin felt _relieved_. Utterly and completely _relieved_. He could almost cry with joy! WatchingMordred hustle down the steps and embrace the confused king, a bright smile on his face, reminded the manservant of all that he loved about the druid man. He knew he shouldn't be—at least that's what he told himself—but Merlin was happier than he could believe. Never again would he make the mistake of thinking that he could live without Mordred. Mordred meant too much to him. He was everything.

Merlin was happy.

_I _should_ be furious, upset, scared_, he tried to tell himself later on after he'd retired to his room, _but I'm not. Well, maybe a _little _frightened, but mostly I just… couldn't be happier. I may have given up the return of magic, but at least I have Mordred still. I didn't realize until today exactly how much he means to me. I don't ever want to lose him again._

* * *

At the very least, Merlin was able to keep his rekindled love under control. He wanted to burst into Mordred's chambers and confess the truth. He wanted to feel Mordred's lips connect hungrily with his, he wanted to feel Mordred's warm body pressed against his own, but the manservant knew that now, just as much as ever, he needed to keep his distance. Just because he loved Mordred more than life itself, that didn't _change_ anything. Mordred was still fated to do a terrible thing, something that Merlin couldn't accept. He couldn't just go running back to him, no matter how badly he wanted to.

And although Merlin was grateful that Mordred's life had been spared, he had to wonder… How? Why? He had his own suspicions of course, which he voiced to Gaius, but Merlin wondered if Mordred knew more, if he knew how he'd been revived.

That night, as he lay down in bed, Merlin reached out with his mind.

_How are you well again? _he asked. He did not bother with greetings, and Mordred gave none in return.

_Why? _the guarded voice entered his mind from across the castle, where Merlin assumed Mordred was also in bed. _Surprised to see me in good health, Merlin?_

_Frankly, yes._

_I suppose Arthur tried to make some deal with the Disir to save my life and you persuaded him otherwise._

_Something like that._

_It's amazing how quickly the heart can forget the love it once had. To think, I was even allowing myself to labor under the delusion of your continued affections. Clearly I was wrong. _Mordred's tone was delicate, but full of bite. It was obvious that the young man felt angry and betrayed.

_Don't you dare. Don't you _dare_, Mordred! _Merlin commanded fiercely. _It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You have no idea what I went through. I felt like dying. Don't you dare imply that I don't care about you, or that I've forgotten what we had. I was trying to protect Arthur. My _destiny_, remember?_

_At the expense of my life_, the knight pointed out harshly._ I'm not inclined towards forgiveness. But tell me, what did the Disir ask of him? It must have been something truly terrible if Arthur was able to be convinced to let one of his friends die over it._

Merlin paused, already flinching in anticipation of Mordred's reaction. After all, what would _he _think if Mordred was in _his_ place and told Merlin this?

_They said that he had to accept the Old Religion, allow magic back into Camelot. He was… so torn up over it, _he added. There was a brief silence on the other end of the conversation, and Merlin became tense. He could only imagine what Mordred thought of him now, how much the druid man must hate him.

_So rather than have magic returned to Camelot and have my life be spared—for you thought that was the deal, yes?—you decided to let me die _and _to keep magic outlawed_, Mordred summed up dryly._ Your mind is truly a mystery to me at times, Merlin._

_I thought that letting you die was the only way to protect Arthur! I've been warned time after time that if you live, Arthur won't. I couldn't risk it, _he explained vehemently._ And besides, when Arthur allows magic back into Camelot, it needs to be because he has accepted it himself, come to see that not all sorcery is evil. Otherwise his hatred of it will continue to burn and he will become bitter that he was forced to bring it back against his will. That isn't the way that it should happen._

_So if Arthur decided _not_ to allow magic to return, why am I alive?_ Mordred asked quietly.

_Well that's the question, isn't it? I reckon…_

_What?_

_Well, I think that… _Merlin hesitated. He really didn't want to drive any barriers into the friendship between Mordred and Arthur, which… was odd, considering what he knew of their fate, and the fact that Arthur would _very_ likely regret the friendship someday.

But somehow Merlin couldn't bring himself to want that. He was _glad _that they liked each other as friends. He loved them both too much to feel otherwise.

…_your life is his punishment for refusing magic_, he finished reluctantly. He wasn't going to lie about it._ We both _thought_ that it was a choice between your _death_ and magic, but I think now that it was actually a choice between your _life _and magic._

_I see… _was the thoughtful reply._ Be that as it may, you shouldn't ignore your own importance, Merlin._

_How do you mean? _the warlock asked confusedly.

_Considering that you and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, joined in destiny, I would not be surprised if this test were not only for him, but for you as well._

Merlin's eyes widened. _What? _he said dumbly.

_Arthur was judged unworthy by the Disir. Perhaps so were you, they simply could not say so because they could not unveil your true self to the others, _Mordred said._ It makes little sense for them to judge Arthur without judging you too. Perhaps my life was also punishment for your failure to encourage Arthur towards the _right_ decision._

Merlin knew immediately that Mordred was wrong and shook his head, even though the other man couldn't see. _Not possible._

_Why not?_

_Because… _Merlin stopped again. This was a dangerous road to be going down. Should he tell Mordred? Or would that just make things more difficult?

_You'll have to be more specific, I'm afraid._

Merlin's lips quirked upwards in the tiniest smile. He loved Mordred's cheeky, sassy attitude. He made up his mind. He would be honest with Mordred, the consequences be damned.

_Your life isn't a punishment for me, Mordred. Despite how much I want to protect Arthur, I never wanted you to die, _he admitted._ Seeing you alive and well was… a shock, and a fright, yes, but it was also a relief. It was a reward for me, not a punishment._

Mordred was quiet for long seconds. Then he returned, his voice quiet and contemplative, and even a tad happy, saying, _You truly do still care, don't you?_

_Yes, _was the firm reply._ Of course I do. How could you even think otherwise?_

_Then perhaps… I was Arthur's punishment but your reward._

Merlin's brow creased and he gave a small frown. _Why would I be rewarded?_ This theory was getting more ridiculous by the second.

_It could be because you were willing to nobly sacrifice so much that is dear to you—the return of magic and my life—all for the sake of protecting Arthur. You gave up two of the most important things in your life, for someone else, the Once and Future King. This made you worthy in their eyes._

This thought actually made Merlin stop and think. Was it possible? Could the Disir have been impressed with his selflessness, even if it had been misdirected?

_Maybe you're right. It'd be nice to think that._

_Good. Then do so, _said Mordred, his voice much kinder than it had been at the start of their conversation._ I believe it. It does make sense, certainly._

_I suppose so._

_Well then. I'm… glad we had this discussion. I assume this changes nothing between us?_

Merlin sighed, stifling his instinct to cry, _Yes! It does!_ Despite his roaring desire and love for Mordred, nothing could change. Not now, not ever. He just hoped that he could keep to that resolution. He was already feeling tempted to break it.

_No. I'm sorry._

_Then goodnight, Merlin._

_Goodnight, Mordred._


	12. Without You

_Author's Note: This is a very short chapter, more of a segway to the next one really. But please feel free to review anyways! Thanks to all my readers, those who review and those who I know are out there but haven't said anything. I honestly appreciate your support, even though it's silent. A great deal of thanks particularly to babar123, who has given me invaluable help and support throughout all of this. WARNING: This chapter will contain slight spoilers for season 5 episode 6. I don't know how soon I'll be able to update, but I'll try to do so as soon as I can._

* * *

Mordred tried to ignore the hole in his heart that had been plaguing him since the exhausting business with the Disir. It was ridiculous to miss Merlin so much. Merlin, the one who'd wanted Mordred to _die_.

Well… perhaps that was the problem. Deep down, after his conversation with Merlin, Mordred knew, somehow beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Merlin was being honest when he said that he'd never _wanted_ Mordred dead. Before Merlin said that, Mordred was perfectly content with his resolution to hate Merlin forever, but now… he just couldn't. He _couldn't_ hate Merlin.

_Still_, he told himself, _I shouldn't _forgive_ him. In fact, I don't. But I also shouldn't love him. I shouldn't want him like this._

But there was no use denying it. It was simple fact that he did love and want Merlin, even if he hadn't entirely forgiven him. Initially, upon miraculously recovering and being reassured of Merlin's feelings, Mordred had felt a sudden spark of hope that he and Merlin could be together once more. But when Merlin made it clear that no such thing would happen, Mordred had come back to his senses.

Despite his feelings for Merlin, being with him would be dangerous and was just a dreadful idea. There was absolutely no guarantee that Merlin wouldn't try the same thing again tomorrow, or the day after. It was absurd to crave a relationship with someone that you _knew_ was willing to take your life.

Mordred suddenly understood _exactly_ how Merlin had felt after he'd admitted to his unhappy willingness to kill Arthur should the need arise. Arthur's life was just as important to Merlin, after all, as Mordred's life was to himself.

Though it was impossible to ignore his feelings, Mordred fought against them and kept himself firmly under control. He sometimes watched Merlin from afar—he couldn't resist—but he always stopped himself from acting on the impulse to approach the warlock or initiate conversation. Merlin had been right all along. They needed to distance themselves from each other.

What he wouldn't give for that not to be true. Day by day, Mordred's desires grew stronger, more difficult to fight, but he refused to give in. He was certain that should he so much as stand too close to Merlin, much less exchange words, his resolve would crumble and he would find himself seeking Merlin's company as often as possible once again.

That was an absolutely unacceptable outcome. No matter what, Mordred would not return to the arms of the man who had tried on multiple occasions to get him killed.

* * *

Never before, not even during his tumultuous relationship with Mordred thus far, had Merlin ached this much. It astounded him. He hadn't even realized that he had the potential to feel such intense, inconsolable longing.

Now that he'd come to understand the true depths of his love for Mordred, Merlin had wanted nothing more than to shove aside all his reservations and reunite with the young man. Mordred—his protection and survival—was now, in the warlock's mind, as important as Arthur and Albion. Merlin was caught in the middle of a conflict, and he couldn't bring himself to take a side, even though he knew that he should be taking Arthur's side without hesitation. But he couldn't, he simply couldn't. How could he possibly choose a side when he would die if either one was taken from him?

This was the reason that Merlin knew it was essential to still keep himself distanced from Mordred. Being with Mordred in that way would be like choosing a side, and that wasn't an option anymore.

No other avenues left open to him, Merlin avoided Mordred to the best of his abilities, working hard to make sure that his depression was not obvious to the outside world, and doing his best to ignore the pain that grew inside of him as each day passed.

* * *

Mordred continued on as he had before the Disir. Because Merlin was still not a part of his life, he spent his time with the other knights, continuing to deepen their friendships. Whenever possible, Mordred associated with Elyan. The queen's brother had remained his favorite knight to this day, although he was growing increasingly fond of Percival, as well as Leon, and even Gwaine.

Elyan seemed quite content to take Mordred under his wing, always making sure that Mordred was taken care of, and the two men quickly became fast friends. It was because of Elyan's comforting presence that Mordred truly began to loosen up and be more himself around the others. At first the older knights were taken aback by his wit, occasionally sharp tongue, and confident personality, but they took it all in stride, seeing him as a young man coming into his own, often laughing boisterously at his clever remarks, and loved him all the same.

The youngest knight also grew to care even more for his king. He had always loved Arthur, but now that Mordred had proven himself in Arthur's eyes, their friendship grew stronger. Arthur was so full of energy and joy, always offering assistance to Mordred, patting him on the back, laughing when Mordred shocked everyone by mocking the other knights in his ever-innocent tone, and it pleased Mordred to know that he had earned the king's trust, respect, and affection. Mordred hoped desperately, with every fiber of his being, that he would never have to kill this man. Those morbid thoughts did not invade his mind often, however, as he was generally focused solely upon his company.

Mordred also continued his visits to Morgana, growing closer to her over time, cementing the bond they'd once had. She was relaxing more around him every time he saw her. At first she had taken to occasionally ordering him about, treating him as though he was inferior, but Mordred could see that this was simply due to old habits, and Morgana soon stopped. She treated Mordred fully as an equal now, as a friend. He found that he could speak with her, tell her anything that he wished, and she would listen with a sympathetic ear. He did the same for her, and he could tell how happy it made her, though sometimes she still seemed to forget or disbelieve his affections. Mordred knew that she had not been so close to someone since the passing of her sister. This made him sad, but the knowledge that his companionship was helping her pleased him.

Combined, it all was almost enough to make Mordred happy.

* * *

Life proceeding as usual served as somewhat of a distraction for Merlin. He buried himself in chores for Arthur and Gaius, which wasn't difficult to do, as both usually had much to ask—demand—of Merlin.

Around Arthur, Merlin made sure to act perfectly normal. He did the same around the other knights, though he tried his best to not be around them much, because Mordred was often with them. Only around Gaius did the warlock let his mask slip to reveal some of his true feelings. When Gaius inquired into the reason for his obvious distress, Merlin said truthfully, "Mordred", knowing that the physician would accept this answer, though entirely misunderstand it.

Time passed. The days dragged by in a painful haze of routine. Merlin became convinced that everything would stay the same forever, that things would simply continue on as they were until the end of time.

Merlin could not have been more wrong, as he soon learned, when, on the anniversary of the death of Gwen and Elyan's father, Queen Guinevere was kidnapped by Morgana Pendragon.


	13. Hard to Say Goodbye

_Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy this installment. Thanks as always to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. Don't forget to leave a review with your thoughts; all constructive criticism is appreciated! WARNING: Spoilers for episode 6 of season 5. _

* * *

Mordred rushed out of the citadel towards the courtyard, stopping halfway down the steps to frantically observe the homecoming party. A few other knights jogged past him, to help the riders down from their horses, but Mordred stayed put. He had been anxiously awaiting their return, and his eyes quickly skimmed the group.

Merlin was fine. Arthur was fine. Gwen was fine. At this point Mordred noticed a deathly solemnity permeating the air, and he continued on to see Percival, Gwaine, Leon, all fine, and then-

This scan took less than a second, before his eyes fixed on the body. Elyan's corpse. Dead. Deceased. Departed.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

"No, it-" Mordred stuttered.

As his horse was being taken care of, Percival lifted Elyan's body into his arms and walked up the stone stairs, carrying the weight of the world in each step he took. Arthur and Gwen followed immediately behind, tightly clasping hands. The queen had been crying recently. Merlin followed the monarchs, and then Gwaine and Leon brought up the tail of the procession. Each face was set with composed grief, and no one spared a glance for Mordred as they passed him, save Leon.

Leon turned to Mordred, his expression a mixture of exhaustion, suffering, and sympathy. Wordlessly, he placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder, squeezing gently. Mordred said nothing, still stuck in a frozen state of disbelief. The pressure on his shoulder disappeared as Leon turned and followed the rest into the castle, Mordred's eyes trailing their path without seeing anything.

* * *

"Merlin, what hap-"

"Elyan's dead," was the blunt answer, the tone flat. Merlin raced past Gaius, who was now struck silent, and shut himself in his room. He sat down heavily on the bed as the guilt and pain at losing a friend battered against him like powerful waves against a rock. There was nothing Merlin could do but let himself be worn away.

* * *

"I'm gonna miss him," said Gwaine softly, eyes slightly vacant.

"We all will," Leon agreed. "He was a good man."

"And a great friend," contributed Percival.

"And one hell of a knight," Gwaine added, the mere ghost of a smile on his lips. "We'll never forget you, old friend."

* * *

Mordred had lost his best friend, his first friend in Camelot. Once he'd moved past his disbelief, Mordred was drowned in sadness. It seemed so unfair. Was it some part of Mordred's fate that anyone he loved was doomed? His father, Aglain, and Elyan had all died, and Morgana had… changed.

If the pattern continued on this way, what lay in store for Merlin and Arthur?

Mordred felt so empty, so full of despair, that he did not realize his destination before he reached it. Once he noticed where he had wandered, however, he understood.

Pushing open the door, Mordred entered the court physician's chambers.

* * *

"Elyan was… one of my best," said Arthur softly, holding his wife in an embrace. "Loyal, and brave, and true."

Gwen pulled back from him, her eyes no longer watering, as they had been earlier. "And he was a good brother," she said firmly, "the best anyone could have. Our father would have been so proud of him. For all that he had become."

Arthur brushed the hair back from Guinevere's face, his touch tender.

"I know. And now your father can tell him so in person," he said gently. Gwen's eyes squeezed shut as she fought against more tears. Arthur hugged her close again, and she clung to him. Drawing away, he said, "But you have also been through much. You should go to Gaius, let him make sure that you are alright."

"Arthur, I'm perfectly fine, I don't need to-"

"Please, Guinevere," he interrupted. "I need to know for certain. I'll have a bath waiting for you upon your return."

Another objection on the tip of her tongue, Gwen looked up into Arthur's firm, but pleading, expression and gave a small sigh. She acquiesced. They shared a brief kiss, and then the queen left to visit the court physician.

* * *

When he heard the creak of the door and the sound of gentle footsteps, Gaius glanced up from his work. Surprised at the figure entering the room, Gaius' eyebrows rose and he looked questioningly at the young person.

"Mordred," he said, his tone confused, "what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I-" Mordred stopped. "That is… I seek Merlin. Is he… in his room?" Gaius was even more confused and amazed than before.

"Ah… yes. Yes, he's in there now."

Mordred nodded his head respectfully and said, "Thank you, Gaius." He crossed the room quietly, past Gaius, and slowly walked up the steps. Gaius watched in stunned silence. Mordred paused just outside the door, then, without bothering to knock, pushed it open and stepped inside.

"Mordred!" Gaius heard Merlin's surprised voice. "What-"

Merlin cut off and all was quiet. Gaius was tempted to peek up the stairs to see what was going on, but his conscience wouldn't allow it. He felt uncomfortable remaining where he was, as if he were eavesdropping on something immensely private, so he decided it would be a nice time for a short walk. Quickly he left the chambers.

* * *

Merlin was sitting on his bed, head in his hands, when he heard the door opening. Expecting Gaius, he lifted his head and turned to look at his guest.

Merlin jumped up, confused. Mordred stood silently just inside the door, eyes locked on Merlin's but revealing nothing. His countenance was perfectly composed, as usual.

"Mordred!" was the first word out of Merlin's mouth. "What-"

Suddenly, before Merlin even understood what was happening, a pair of strong arms squeezed him as Mordred hugged Merlin tighter than he'd ever been held before. The warlock wondered for a moment if Mordred was trying to comfort him, but then he noticed a few things. Mordred's head was absolutely buried in the nook of Merlin's shoulder and neck, and his body had never felt so tense.

_Of course,_ Merlin thought, wrapping his own arms around Mordred just as tightly, ignoring the electric shock he received at the perfect, and familiar, feel of his ex-lover in his arms. _Elyan was Mordred's best friend. How could I have forgotten?_

They stood still, in silence, for several long minutes, holding onto each other with all the strength they had. Neither man even bothered to wonder if it was unwise to do so, after all the hard work they'd put in to avoid each other, because it just _wasn't_ wrong. It was right. It was exactly what they both needed more than anything. It was necessary. And what is necessary is never unwise.

Finally, they drew away, but, unable to bear completely separating, Merlin placed his hands on Mordred's waist and Mordred held onto Merlin's arms. Their faces remained only a few inches apart. Two sets of blue eyes locked together.

"I…" whispered Mordred, looking as young and innocent as Merlin had ever seen. Choking up, he swallowed, and paused before continuing. "I'm… sorry. I know I should not have come-"

"Don't. Don't apologize," said Merlin, just as quietly.

"Merlin… I need you. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere." Merlin pulled Mordred into another embrace, a gentler one. "It's fine. Stay."

"But I thought-"

"It doesn't matter. Not tonight. I need you too."

Mordred pulled back, looking at Merlin with surprise. Merlin smiled softly, reaching out a hand to delicately brush against Mordred's cheek. The younger man trembled at the intimate touch, his heart careening into a gallop.

"I'm glad you came," Merlin whispered fervently.

Unable to hold back, Mordred swiftly closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against Merlin's. There was a split second of hesitation, before Merlin fiercely kissed back.

* * *

When she made her way to Gaius' chambers, Gwen found an empty room. The physician was out. Sighing, knowing that Arthur wouldn't relax until she'd been examined (as if Morgana would ever _actually_ _hurt_ her), Gwen made towards Merlin's room, intent on asking her friend (or at least, _Merlin_ ignorantly thought they were friends) when Gaius would be back. She stopped before the bottom of the steps, the sight beyond the open doorway forcing her to halt with shock. Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from making a sound.

Merlin was not alone. With him was Mordred, and they were kissing passionately, seemingly lost in their own world. They hadn't even noticed the queen's presence.

After a few seconds of observation, Gwen turned away and made her way swiftly, but quietly, out of the room, her mind reeling.

_So _Mordred_ is the man that Merlin spoke of, _she pieced together, stunned beyond belief. Never in a million years would she have guessed that. _I wonder what Morgana will think about this._

* * *

Merlin knew it was wrong, what he was doing with Mordred, but he just didn't care anymore. They'd lost Elyan, and they'd been without each other for far too long. For just one night, they deserved to give in to their needs, to seek comfort in each other's arms, and so that's what they did.

The two men kissing feverishly, Mordred closed the chamber door, backing Merlin up against the wall when he did so, carefully avoiding the door's hooks. Merlin's jacket had already been discarded on the floor, as had his neckerchief. Mordred probed at Merlin's lips, nipping and licking gently. Merlin allowed him in.

As Mordred's tongue explored Merlin's mouth, the warlock grasped at the fabric of Mordred's shirt, pulling it up. They broke apart just long enough for Mordred to raise his arms and Merlin to slide the shirt off of him. Their lips reconnected roughly and Merlin ran his hands over Mordred's torso, reveling in the skin laid bare beneath his touch. Mordred's skin was soft and smooth, and his chest was perfectly muscled and firm.

Mordred groaned. He'd remembered how it felt to have Merlin's hands upon him, but the memory paled in comparison to the reality. His body shivered happily as Merlin's delicate fingers trailed down his chest.

Taking advantage of Mordred's distraction, Merlin flipped them around, so that it was he shoving Mordred up against the wall. Mordred's eyes flashed with surprise. Merlin smirked and attached their lips once more. His hands slid down Mordred's shoulders, down his arms, and grasped his wrists. Merlin pinned his arms against the door, then slid them up the wooden surface, until Merlin had Mordred's arms pinned above his head.

Holding the younger man thus, Merlin pulled away from Mordred's lips to trail light kisses down Mordred's neck to his collarbone. Mordred moaned at the soft, tantalizing touches, needing more. Bringing his lips back up to the other man's, Merlin kissed him deeply and released his hold on Mordred's wrists, but kept his own arms raised, silently inviting Mordred to divest him of his own shirt.

Mordred happily obliged, but slowly, brushing the fabric up, and crouching down to trace the shirt's upward progress with his lips, kissing each new inch of exposed skin, and delighting in the way he could hear Merlin's breath catch as he did so. When he stood up fully and tossed the shirt aside, he pulled Merlin as close as possible, savoring the feeling of their bare, warm bodies pressed tightly together.

They continued to share kisses and touches, soon shedding the remainder of their clothes, and the two sorcerers spent the night giving in to the craving that both had been struggling to ignore in recent weeks. It was just as perfect as their first time together, and filled with even more lust and passion than before. For just one night, Merlin and Mordred allowed themselves to feel happy and whole again. To feel loved.

* * *

Sunlight crept through the window, and Merlin's eyes flickered open. He was immediately aware of the unusual presence under his arm, and, with a start, memories of the preceding night crashed into him.

Mordred lay in the bed with him, where they had settled in for the night after making love for the second time. Merlin's arm was draped over him, holding him firmly to Merlin's chest, just as they had done the last time, this time because there was no room on the bed to do otherwise.

Merlin could not ignore how perfect it felt to wake up and feel Mordred's body beside his, his naked flesh pressing comfortably against Merlin's. But now that the grief and overwhelming need of the last night had gone, he didn't know what to do or think.

Was this alright? Was it all a horrible mistake? What were they supposed to do now? Should they part and never speak of this again, simply accepting that it was a one-time affair? Should they acknowledge that it happened, and talk about it?

Merlin knew that he loved Mordred. About that, there was no doubt. But Mordred had been distant with him lately, just as he had been distant with Mordred. Destiny and fate were coming between them. They couldn't trust one another, and they would never agree, so it was best to remain separate.

Wasn't it? Or was remaining separate a waste of effort when it was clear that they were both still desperately yearning for the other? Would remaining apart hurt more than it would help?

Merlin blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he was startled to be staring straight into a dazzling blue pair of eyes. The warlock had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't even felt the man turn over. Because space was limited on the small bed, Merlin and Mordred were forced to press close together, and even doing so, Merlin could tell that Mordred was running the risk of falling off the side.

The two men stared into each other's eyes, neither speaking a word of greeting to accompany the light of dawn. Merlin wondered if Mordred was having the same thoughts, debating the same questions, that Merlin himself was.

Without so much as a whisper, Mordred extricated himself from under Merlin's arm and turned away, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. His brow wrinkling, Merlin sat up as well, leaning against the wall as he watched his lover put on his breeches.

"Mordred," he said simply. The knight stood, half-dressed, and turned to face Merlin. He said nothing, clearly waiting for the other to speak. Merlin swallowed. He didn't know what to say.

"Are you… leaving?" asked Merlin, not sure what answer he wanted to hear.

"Yes, I thought that would be the best course of action," Mordred answered. Stomach twisting into knots, Merlin suddenly knew quite clearly what answer he'd wanted.

"No, Mordred, wait," he exclaimed quickly, voice desperate, pushing off the blanket and climbing out of bed to join the younger man. Merlin's hands grabbed Mordred's waist. "I don't want you to leave."

Confusion flitted across Mordred's face. "You don't? Why? I thought that-"

"I don't… know why," interrupted Merlin, looking uncomfortable. "I just know that… I don't want you to go. Not just yet."

He met Mordred's eyes. When the other man said nothing, Merlin sighed, and let his eyes wander down to where his hands rested on Mordred's hips. Merlin moved his hands upwards slowly, gently brushing over Mordred's skin, the touch full of reverence, not lust. When he reached Mordred's shoulders, Merlin dropped his right hand. With his left, he lightly traced the Triskelion design on Mordred's chest that marked him as a druid. He loved the marking. It was a part of Mordred, a part of who he was, and it was one of the many parts that made the whole perfect. The black tattoo was beautiful and precious.

Mordred felt his cheeks flush as Merlin traced the dark lines with his fingers. The touch was so intimate, so full of tenderness and love. Mordred hadn't ever thought that such a simple act could feel so sweet. It made his heart speed up and he became very aware of the way his chest expanded and contracted with every deep breath.

Merlin had traced the pattern several times now. Trying to force himself back into his senses, Mordred clenched his teeth, and closed his eyes so he couldn't see the handsome man in front of him. He reached up and grabbed Merlin's hand with his own. Opening his eyes again, he saw that Merlin's eyes had flicked up to his.

"Merlin, I can't stay. You know this. I must go." Mordred started to withdraw his hand, but Merlin only held on tighter. The manservant gazed at him with pleading eyes.

"But… when you go, when you leave here…"

The knight waited, but Merlin seemed lost, unable to finish the thought. After a pause, Mordred encouraged, "Yes?"

"It'll be over," Merlin finished sharply. "Everything that happened will just be a dream. I just feel that if you walk out now… it will all cease to be real. I don't want that. I _want_ this to be real. What we have. What we shared."

Mordred's expression softened with compassion, and he gave Merlin's hand a reassuring squeeze. His other hand he placed tenderly on Merlin's neck, his thumb brushing against Merlin's pale cheek.

"It _was_ real. It was never a dream," he assured his lover. "Do not think that it was. But just because it was real does not mean it must last forever. There are reasons we have not seen each other of late, and those reasons still stand. We shall never forget this moment, what we did together, how we feel, but we must pretend to. We cannot be together."

"What if I told you that I don't care?" asked Merlin forcefully. Mordred's eyebrows rose with surprise. "What if I told you that I just don't care about _any_ of that? I _want_ you, Mordred. More than anything."

Merlin couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth, couldn't believe what he was admitting out loud, the feelings he'd tried to stuff away in the deepest, darkest recesses of his heart. But he couldn't stop himself. After the night they'd spent together, he hadn't the will to push the druid man away. Merlin needed him. He _loved_ him. Everything else be damned!

But Mordred did not, apparently, agree.

"I would say that you need more rest," teased Mordred gently. Merlin's heart sank like a stone into the pit of his stomach. "It is early in the morning, and you are weak. You do not truly want me more than anything. You will soon remember that. But first you must let me leave."

Feeling heartbroken, having been thoroughly rejected (though kindly), Merlin released Mordred's hand and took a step backwards. Mordred watched him, as though waiting for him to speak. When he did not, the knight picked up his shirt and boots, quickly putting them on. Mordred made his way to the door. He paused.

This felt wrong. To let it end like this. It had been so hard to push away Merlin's advances, but he knew that later on Merlin would again decide they couldn't be together, and he didn't have the strength to play hot and cold with the warlock. And of course, he still remembered his _own_ resolve to avoid Merlin, and the reason for it, and, despite his momentary weakness the night before, he was determined to stick to it. Sort of. At least, he was strong enough to _force_ himself to stick to it. For now.

_Still_, this abrupt ending wasn't right. Spinning around, Mordred marched over to Merlin, grabbed him, and kissed him firmly. Merlin responded just as passionately, but the kiss was over in a second. Reaching up, Mordred planted a loving kiss on Merlin's forehead, before racing out the door.

* * *

"How can he just leave me with that, and not expect me to want more?" Merlin cried out in frustration. He was quite alone in his chambers, only a few days later. A few more days of being avoided by Mordred, even despite the fact that they'd stood only a few feet apart at Elyan's funeral.

"_I'm_ the one who established the boundaries in the _first_ place, so why is _he_ so eager to _keep_ them? I thought he _wanted _to be together! ...Well, then, after that, I did try to let him die, I suppose… But _honestly_! I _know_ that he wants it too, why couldn't he have just… said _yes_?

"And that's even ignoring the fact that _he_ was the one to come to _me _that night, not the other way around! Was he just _trying_ to wind me up?"

"Actually, I was just coming to tell you that supper is ready."

Embarrassed, Merlin spun around. His mentor stood in the doorway, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Gaius!" the young man exclaimed. He fidgeted sheepishly. "Sorry, I… I didn't mean _you_, I was just… I was just…"

"Quite," said Gaius simply. He gave his adoptive son one last thoughtful glance before turning away. "Come on, Merlin, before the soup gets cold!" Merlin grimaced, but followed the physician down the stairs.

* * *

Percival had been keeping an eye on the youngest Knight of the Round Table ever since Elyan's death. Obviously they were all taking the loss of one of Camelot's finest rather badly, but he knew that Mordred especially would feel alone and abandoned. Knowing that Elyan would have wanted Mordred looked after in his absence, Percival took up the responsibility easily. It was in his nature to care for and protect others.

As expected, Mordred had seemed particularly subdued in the days following the group's return from the Dark Tower. He rarely spoke, and none of the wit that had surfaced recently made any appearances. At the end of the week, when the other knights were all beginning to surface from their grief (knights were, after all, unfortunately used to such occasions and were always aware that such a thing could happen at any time), but Mordred showed no signs of doing the same, Percival approached Mordred on the grounds, before Arthur commenced the day's training.

"How are you, Mordred?" he asked quietly. Mordred looked up at the bigger man, a small smile flashing across his face before disappearing.

"I miss him," answered Mordred truthfully. He meant, of course, both Elyan _and_ Merlin, but Percival didn't need to know that.

"I understand. It's always hard to lose a friend. But… the rest of us have been through this before, unlike you. Not that it gets any easier, but over time, you… learn how to handle it."

Mordred nodded, feeling it best not to divulge that he had in fact lost many others in his time, even if they weren't knights.

"So I just want you to know, if you need anything, if I can do anything for you, you can come to me. All right?" Mordred hesitated. "I mean it," Percival insisted. "If something ails you-"

"Did I hear someone say ale?" interrupted a loud, familiar voice. Percival and Mordred turned round to face the approaching Gwaine. "And, more importantly, where can _I_ get some of it?"

"Well, by now I think you've drained Camelot dry, Gwaine," replied Percival. "You may have to travel to Nemeth to quench your thirst."

Gwaine laughed good-naturedly and gave Percival a friendly slap on the back. Sending a wink Mordred's way, Gwaine pushed between them, jogging off to join some of the others. Percival gave a fond sigh.

"Some people never change." Mordred chuckled. Serious again, Percival said, "So are we clear?" This time Mordred just smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Thank you, Percival. I shall remember it."

Percival nodded his satisfaction.

"Good. Now come on, I feel like knocking Gwaine on his backside. What do you think?" Mordred laughed, surprised at the ease with which he was doing so, and the two friends continued talking as they walked together across the grounds.

* * *

Gazing out the window, Merlin watched Mordred and Percival speaking from high above. During the discussion, Mordred smiled several times, and then, just once, he laughed.

Mordred was beautiful when he laughed. Merlin ached, wishing that he could not only witness Mordred laughing from afar, but hear it also. It was a tone that he sorely missed.

He'd had enough. He couldn't do it any longer.

* * *

The banquet had just ended, and Mordred made his way back to his chambers. Shortly after he closed the door and stepped inside, the door opened again. Before Mordred could turn around, he heard,

"Let me help you with that."

His heart pounding in his chest, Mordred's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he made no verbal protest as Merlin walked up behind him. A part of him screamed that he should run away, force Merlin to leave, to get out, but the battle was lost before it had begun. Mordred had been completely taken by surprise; he'd had no time to mentally prepare himself to block out Merlin's advances and remained cool and clear-headed. So he found that he couldn't. The moment Merlin had opened his mouth to speak, Mordred was finished. All resistance was over with. Perhaps the battle had _truly_ been lost even earlier, at the moment that Mordred had entered Merlin's room after learning of Elyan's death.

Yes. That felt true. Acknowledging that fact, Mordred wasn't even sure if he was upset or relieved that his resolve to completely avoid Merlin had disintegrated.

As Merlin reached around Mordred to unclasp his cape, Mordred perceived a very noticeable change in his own pulse. Lord, how nice it had been to once again feel Merlin's touch those nights ago, the touch he'd been craving, especially since their first night together.

He wished to feel it again. Mordred struggled to ignore those needs. Just because he'd relinquished the fight to avoid Merlin entirely didn't mean he was ready to just jump in Merlin's arms suddenly.

"Thank you, Merlin," he said simply, turning to face the manservant. Merlin met his eyes briefly before setting to work on removing Mordred's gloves.

"Well I can't just leave you to undress by yourself," replied Merlin. "Who knows what would happen?"

"Yes, I do think that your assistance has caused me to forget how to do so on my own," he agreed. Internally, he was bubbling with joy and relief that he and Merlin had slid so easily into their normal banter. This was not at all awkward, like he'd feared. Perhaps they could just keep things this way, at this level. Then everything would be okay.

"I knew it. You're turning into another Arthur. I've created a monster."

Mordred laughed quietly. Merlin smiled.

"I think we're still safe from that," disagreed Mordred. "I could never truly be another Arthur unless you were devoted to my wellbeing."

Was Mordred imagining things or did Merlin stiffen at that comment? No, he mustn't have been imagining it because the next thing Merlin said was, "I have to leave." And leave he did.

_What just occurred? _wondered Mordred dumbly, still a bit numb from shock at the casual visit. _Did I bother him by speaking of Arthur? No, he mentioned the King before I did. What then? It's not a secret that he is entirely devoted to Arthur, nor is it a secret between us that Merlin is perfectly willing to sacrifice my life for Arthur's. That's the reason we split apart in the _first _place. So why did my statement make him so uncomfortable?_

_And what in the name of the Triple Goddess is our relationship supposed to be now?_

* * *

Lost in his thoughts, Mordred glanced out the window vaguely. He did a double take when a certain figure caught his eye.

There was a very familiar young man walking through the courtyard, obviously with a purpose, heading towards the lower town.

_I shouldn't…_ thought Mordred. But his mind was made up the minute he saw the warlock.

Mordred hurried down a set of stairs, flashing a small smile at Gwaine, but dashing past the older man before he could ask any questions, which he was clearly about to do. The druid man walked across the courtyard, following Merlin into the marketplace. His eyes scanned his surroundings as he walked, searching for Merlin.

There he was, speaking with one of the vendors. Mordred halted beside a nearby cart piled high with woven baskets, but watched the manservant out of the corner of his eye.

_Shopping for a pretty necklace?_ Mordred called out. Mordred smirked when Merlin jumped. Laughing, he watched Merlin stutter an excuse to the confused man from whom he was purchasing wares. It was clear from the tension in Merlin's body that he wanted to turn about and look for Mordred, but was forcing himself not to.

_Picking up a few things for Gaius_, answered Merlin, his tone dispassionate. This irritated Mordred, it made him feel unimportant to Merlin, but he reminded himself that it was _good_, that he shouldn't want or expect anything more, and neither should he _give _anything more.

Then what were they both doing flirting with each other again?

_What are you doing in town?_ Merlin asked.

_Just taking a look at what Camelot has to offer_, he replied truthfully, eyeing the warlock, already outlining a new sketch in his mind.

_That's nice_.

Merlin exchanged some coins for a few vials of liquid. Turning about, his eyes quickly found Mordred. The young knight kept his attention focused on the baskets in front of him as Merlin approached him.

"Mordred," greeted Merlin cordially. Mordred looked up and smiled, as if surprised to see the other man.

"Merlin," he returned, "It is good to see you. Running errands?"

"Yep. For Gaius. However did you know?" asked Merlin dryly. Mordred smirked.

"I have a talent for guessing."

"Clearly. Well, I should be getting back, Gaius is expecting me-"

"I'll accompany you," said Mordred quickly. Merlin raised an eyebrow and Mordred gave him an innocent smile. "If that would be agreeable."

"Uh… that's… Sure."

The two men walked side by side through the market, back towards the citadel.

"I presume you weren't honestly interested in purchasing one of those baskets," Merlin stated bluntly. "So what were you _really _doing there?"

"Following you." Mordred's blatant honesty took Merlin aback briefly, but then he chuckled, giving a bright grin. Mordred smiled at the other man's reaction.

"Should have known. Don't you have better things to do with your time? Or am I the _only_ one who works around here?"

"You would be the only one, yes. I'm sure His Majesty appreciates your efforts."

"Oh, of _course_ he does. He even _tells_ me so. About once every decade."

"Well that's probably about as often as he feels you've done a decent job."

"Now _that_ was just uncalled for."

* * *

Once they'd started, they simply couldn't stop. The occasional talks continued, the flirting and the furtive glances.

Merlin, for his part, had realized that he truly did wish to be with Mordred once more. There was no use fighting against it. His affections were too great. Mordred meant everything to him, and Elyan's death seemed to have reminded Merlin of mortality, so he could no longer stand to be apart from Mordred, not when death could be just around the corner. But, since Mordred had refused him, this was the best he could get. It was certainly a large improvement on total avoidance.

Mordred, for _his_ part, had initially had every intention of ending… whatever it was that was going on between them. But he found that he couldn't. With each passing day, he missed Elyan even more, and he couldn't keep himself from thinking… What if he were parted from _Merlin_? What if _Merlin_ was the next to die and be gone forever? Mordred couldn't bear the thought of losing the man he loved, and therefore, he couldn't bring himself to waste the precious time they had. So he let things continue, acknowledging how much happier he was with Merlin now in his life, and allowing himself to be consumed again by his love for the warlock.

Sometimes, it takes just one stone to start an avalanche, or one night to break down the walls.

* * *

"Let me help you with that."

"I saw you take quite a tumble down the stairs this morning. Are you alright?" asked Mordred, voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine," answered Merlin, smiling reassuringly. "I was able to land on, uh, something soft."

"Yes, the maid, I saw. I'm sure she appreciated that."

Merlin reddened. "Well, she wasn't hurt. And I _did _apologize."

"Rather profusely. I think she was more bothered by your incoherent ramblings of apology than the fact that you landed on top of her," Mordred remarked, smirking at the manservant. Merlin halted and pursed his lips.

"You weren't actually worried about me, were you?" he stated. "You just wanted to tease me about it."

"Perhaps."

"Prat."

A bright smile spread across Mordred's face, and Merlin could not help the happy flush that came to his cheeks when he saw it.

"Well, _I_ saw _you_ practically _fly_ through the air at training today," retaliated Merlin. Mordred felt a slight rush of embarrassment. He hadn't been aware that Merlin was watching. Merlin hadn't been out on the grounds, so he must have been observing from a window.

"Did you?" the knight said lightly.

"Oh yeah. I would have been worried about you if I hadn't been laughing so hard. The face you made when you landed on your back? It was funny, I promise you that."

"I'm glad you derive amusement from my pain."

"Well, looks like we have something in common then!" Merlin retorted teasingly. Mordred tried to resist, but he smiled anyways, and Merlin smiled back at him.

"We have _much_ in common, Merlin," he replied sincerely. The druid man expected Merlin to bolt, to avoid the serious turn the conversation had taken, but he didn't. Instead, Merlin said, just as sincerely,

"I know. Trust me… I know."

When Merlin left that day, Mordred was left to puzzle over the enigmatic young man. So full of wit and humor, but just as full of compassion and kindness. Merlin was a mystery to Mordred, one that he still hadn't unraveled and suspected he might never. The warlock never seemed to behave quite like Mordred expected.

Mordred smiled. That was one of the things that he loved about Merlin.


	14. A Traitor in Camelot

_Author's Note: We're over 200 followers, guys! That's so great, thank you so much. A big big thanks to all my reviewers! Really, every single review makes me very happy. Please keep it up. I love hearing your thoughts._

_WARNING: Spoilers for season 5 episode 7._

* * *

Mordred pushed the door open, entering the hut he'd come to know very well. Morgana stood at a wooden table, working. Recognizing the look of intense concentration on Morgana's face, the young man closed the door behind him and stood silently, waiting for Morgana to finish.

The sorceress tied a string round the object in front of her, and set it down. Now she turned to face Mordred, flashing him a small smirk, the one that Mordred recognized as her smile of triumph. This made sense, as it was the first time they'd met after her capture of Guinevere.

"Hello, Morgana," he greeted.

"Mordred," she returned. "How does my dear brother?"

"He mourns for the loss of Sir Elyan, as we all do, but rejoices in the return of his wife."

"Excellent," said Morgana, her smirk growing. "He does not suspect, then."

"He suspects nothing," he assured her.

"As I thought. Arthur is too stupid even to know when his own wife despises him," she sneered.

"The Queen is an impressive actress. She has fooled everyone. _No_ one suspects."

"Good. That is how it must be if she is to ascend peacefully to the throne."

Mordred took a moment's pause to steel his nerves. He had decided before coming tonight that he would speak with Morgana about certain matters, but it made him nervous. He was always afraid that he would say the wrong thing around Morgana, and that would be the end for him.

But he had to try, and there was no more time to waste. Elyan's death had shown him that; it had been a wake-up call. A more direct approach was needed than the one he'd been taking thus far.

"Morgana… what is your plan?"

Morgana's eyebrows rose. "Arthur will die, and when he does, Guinevere will remain Queen. Through her I will regain my rightful throne," she stated, thinking that the answer was quite obvious.

"Yes, but what do you mean to do once you have control of Camelot?" he asked. "You have taken over in the past, and I do not believe it turned out well."

"Last time I did not have the loyalty of the knights," snapped Morgana. "This time will be different. The knights _will _give their loyalty to Gwen."

"Even so, even with the knights on your side, there is the whole of Camelot to consider," Mordred pointed out. Morgana threw him a sharp glance. "I do not mean to upset you, Morgana, but if you wish to rule Camelot, you will need the support of its people. Without the people, there _is_ no Camelot."

"The people will happily accept Guinevere as their Queen."

"Guinevere, yes, but if you ever mean to sit upon the throne as Camelot's ruler, where you belong, the people will be difficult to win over. The knights trust Guinevere, and will trust her always, but not all the people know her as we do. They do not all trust her unconditionally."

"So what is it you suggest?" asked Morgana, her scathing tone indicating how little she was taking the conversation seriously. But Mordred saw a flicker in her eyes that betrayed her.

"You must learn to take care of all those who will live in your kingdom. You must be a fair and just ruler, as Arthur is-"

"Arthur is _not_ a fair and just ruler!" was the angry, snarling interruption. "How can you _say_ that, Mordred? After what he has done to our kind?"

"And that is why you will be a _better_ ruler than Arthur. That is why I believe in _you_ and the world that _you_ will create," Mordred replied fervently. "When it comes to magic and sorcery, Arthur is stubborn, ignorant, and destructive. But in all other matters, he _is_ a good king. Most importantly, he cares for his people, and they know this. You must learn to care for them as well. It is Arthur's compassion for his people that is his best kingly quality."

"Why should I care about any of them?" demanded the witch snidely. "How _could_ I? They may not hunt us down themselves, but they are happy to let their King do so. They would gladly see me dead, yet I am not supposed to feel the same?"

"There is no point in winning Camelot if you are happy to kill all those who live within her borders. You must see, Morgana, that it is not their fault."

"No? I don't see any of _them_ fighting for what is _right_, fighting to protect magic and those like us, who practice it. They are as guilty as Arthur."

"There are more who fight for magic than you know."

A crinkle in her brow, Morgana shot Mordred a sharp look, her curiosity spiked by his confident claim. Taking advantage of her silence to change the turn of the conversation, Mordred continued.

Gently, he said, "Morgana, you were lucky enough to be born with gifts, and to have a sister who could show you the truth about magic. But what if you had _not_ been so lucky? Raised as Uther's ward, surely you would have forever believed that magic is evil. It is just the same for Camelot's people. They do not know any better."

"They are like _cattle_, then," sneered Morgana, "following blindly in the path of others. And _cattle_ are meant to be _slaughtered_."

"They are misguided," corrected Mordred, shaking his head. "They have been lied to, betrayed." Morgana's mouth snapped open to make a retort, but Mordred quickly said, "You yourself know the sharp sting of betrayal." Her jaw clenched shut and her eyes grew cold as they gazed upon Mordred. If he noticed, he did not show it. He continued.

"They cannot be blamed for this. But if you are a kind ruler, a compassionate and fair ruler, they will learn to respect you. They will see that magic is not evil. You must let them know you as I do. If you do, they will _love_ you."

As he said this, Mordred stepped forward, placing a tender hand on the young woman's cheek, softly brushing against her pale skin. The gesture was purely platonic, but the touch communicated the friendly—perhaps even brotherly—love that Mordred felt for Morgana.

Morgana's gaze softened, and her eyes flickered confusedly as she struggled with an overload of emotions. She wasn't sure what to do, or even think. Should she be furious with Mordred for his words? Should she just take comfort in the fact that his words did seem to come, somehow, from a place of love for her? Morgana's thoughts continued to spin in a violent whirl as Mordred went on.

"But if you kill peasants on any passing whim, as you did before in trying to force the knights' loyalties, they will never accept you. They will never see that magic is not evil. And they will never love you."

Morgana froze, Mordred's cold, blunt words breaking through her tornado of thoughts. His words hurt her, but she certainly wouldn't be admitting that. Expression stiff, Morgana stepped away from the druid's touch.

"None of this matters," she said. "This time the knights will be loyal to me, and such measures will not be necessary."

"It is not so simple!" insisted Mordred. "If you do not prove to the people that you care about them—and you must sincerely care, for they will know if it is only a pretense—you will have a rebellion on your hands. And I do not believe that the knights of Camelot will be willing to stand against their own people. You would not stand a chance."

Mordred inhaled deeply, already regretting his next words, but knowing they could very well be needed to make the necessary impact on Morgana. After a second, he forced the words from his mouth, putting up all his defenses. If ever he'd needed his skills of deception to be perfect, now was the moment.

"Especially if Emrys is a part of the opposing force," was his concluding statement.

The name of her mortal enemy set Morgana's heart into a frantic gallop as her eyes shot wide open. "What do you know of Emrys?" she demanded.

"Only what you do, Morgana," Mordred lied smoothly. "Less, in fact, for I have never encountered him in the flesh, as you have. But I should think… I _must_ think, that a sorcerer as _great_ as Emrys would wish to see magic restored to the land just as we would."

"I wouldn't be so sure," remarked the witch bitterly. "Emrys has always thwarted my plans to dispose of Arthur in the past. Why should he protect my brother, who outlaws magic? It makes no sense!"

"Perhaps because he believes you to be incapable of anything but malice and cruelty and would rather keep Arthur on the throne than allow you on it."

A black cloud of fury crossed Morgana's expression.

In a rage, she seethed, "How _dare _you-"

"But _I_ know better," was the steady interruption. "Still, though it pains me to say, I can see why Emrys would think such a thing."

"Is that so? Is that what you think of me?" asked Morgana, a dangerous smile on her lips and an even _more_ dangerous glint in her searching eyes. "I'm beginning to wonder if your allegiance does not truly lie where you have said."

"It does, Morgana. Just hear me," said Mordred, attempting to calm her, though his own pulse was racing forward at a frightened pace. His speech quickened to match his quickened pulse.

"At heart, you are truly good. Your intentions are honorable and I would die fighting at your side to see your dreams come true, to see magic restored to the land."

_This is good, she hasn't attacked yet, she still seems to be considering what I say_, he thought anxiously, watching Morgana for any signs of an explosion. _Perhaps I've placated her enough to get away with this…_

"But over time you have become desperate. And in your desperation you have killed, and you have tortured. I understand why, but I cannot agree with all your methods. At some point, you ceased to understand the difference between necessary and unnecessary sacrifices. And what scares me the most is…" Mordred drifted off, the return of the anger in Morgana's expression stealing his breath away.

"_What_?" she snapped. Mordred took a second to steel his nerve once again, breathing slowly.

Timidly, feeling much more aware of his youth and inexperience than usual, Mordred answered, "Sometimes I worry for you. Your hatred of Arthur I can accept. I can see why you want him dead, and why the thought gives you joy. But when I see that joy present when others have died or been hurt, it frightens me. The Morgana I knew once would never have been happy to see anyone, no matter who they were, die unnecessarily, in the crossfire of a battle that did not belong to them."

"The Morgana you knew was young and naïve," retorted Morgana harshly. "I grew up. When you do the same… you will understand. You will see things my way."

"No. I won't." Morgana stiffened unhappily at his confident claim. "Please, think on what I've said. I love you, Morgana. I always have and I still do. I only ask that when next you consider killing, you choose mercy. That you spare those who do not need to die. That's all. I hope you do this. For me."

Mordred ended his soft plea, searching his companion's face anxiously, trying to read her feelings. No matter what happened now, nothing would be the same between them anymore. He just hoped that what happened next wasn't his execution at the hands of an enraged High Priestess.

Morgana was quivering with restrained emotions. A few seconds passed before she gained enough control to growl, "I want you to leave. I want you out, gone, _now_!"

Complying, Mordred turned away, leaving the hut quickly. He sent silent prayers up to the gods that Morgana had not attacked him, and wondered if it was because she cared too much for him to attack or if he'd guessed correctly that she wouldn't wish to start a fight inside her hut, where all of her things could easily be damaged. Either way, the young man considered himself rather lucky for escaping unscathed.

* * *

Later that night, Mordred stood by his open window, murmuring words of a spell out into the darkness. It did not take long for a raven to fly to him, landing on the windowsill.

Whispering yet more words, Mordred attached a rolled-up piece of parchment to the bird's leg. When he was finished, the raven cawed and flew away. Mordred watched it go before shutting the window to keep out the cold air.

Three nights later, after three days of fretting anxiously over the matter, the druid received a reply, via the same black bird.

Hurriedly reading the parchment, Mordred smiled.

* * *

"I must be misunderstanding you," said Mordred calmly. "You cannot truly mean that the King intends to bring you along when he and the Queen go for a ride to celebrate their _marriage_ anniversary."

Merlin grinned, pulling off Mordred's gloves. "I'm telling you, Arthur is helpless without me. In fact, if it weren't for me, that man wouldn't make it through a single day, I'm sure of it."

"Arthur certainly does give that impression," agreed the knight.

"And as for this anniversary, not only did Gwen remind him of it last month and not only did I remind him of it _today_, but I'm willing to bet that when the day actually comes, two days from now, I'll have to remind him _again_."

"Then it is lucky indeed for the King that you never abandoned him in favor of herding sheep."

Merlin laughed appreciatively and nodded.

"Arthur has _no_ idea how grateful he should be to me," he agreed sassily.

"Perhaps you should _tell_ him."

"Nah, I think I'll just keep stealing bits from his food and occasionally tripping him with my magic. Much more fun."

Laughing merrily, Mordred replied, "I imagine so. In that case, Merlin, keep it up. We must keep our King humble. And we certainly wouldn't want him to get fat."

"I know! That's exactly what I told him. For some reason he seemed angry with me afterwards."

Mordred laughed again, and Merlin smiled back at him. They continued their playful conversation until Merlin was done helping Mordred undress, at which time they parted amiably.

* * *

Morgana was certainly displeased that her latest plan to dispose of Arthur had failed, but there was a part of her that, though she wouldn't admit it aloud, was silently proud and rejoiced in the fact that her half-brother was not such easy prey. It would have been disappointing if Arthur had succumbed to such a weak plot. The King of Camelot should, after all, be able to hold his own against two hired thugs with swords.

Besides, poison was a much more fun way to go: it would both increase his suffering, _and_ dying at the hands of the one he loved was so… poetic. An intimate death was much more satisfying to the witch.

Morgana had been annoyed at the apothecary for asking such a high price for his wares, but she reckoned it was a small loss in comparison to gaining all of Camelot, so she paid it. It was when the blathering idiot demanded _more_ money, in order to ensure his silence, that Morgana became truly unhappy with him. A very different, and much more permanent, solution to ensure his silence quickly came to mind.

Morgana stopped. Perhaps… perhaps she need not kill this, admittedly moronic, man. She could hardly kill all the stupid people in the land, she simply didn't have the time. And if she did, there would be too few people left alive. So why kill _him_? She _did_ have a little more money to spare, after all. His death wasn't… necessary.

_Besides_, more importantly of course, he could be useful to her in the future! Who could know what services she would require of him later on? If she killed him now, Morgana would get no more use out of this man.

Rather frustrated, with both the apothecary and herself, Morgana tossed more gold coins onto the floor before sweeping out of the shop.

* * *

It all seemed to happen so quickly.

First there was the attack on Arthur while he was out riding with Gwen and Merlin on his anniversary. Then Tyr Seward—_Tyr Seward _of all people—was accused of plotting regicide and was thrown in jail, sentenced to execution for being a traitor. That very night Tyr was murdered in his cell. Shortly after, it was the King himself on his deathbed, with Gaius, Merlin, Guinevere, and many of the knights all crowded about him, the room full of tension and worry.

"Is there no hope?" Gwen asked the physician.

"The poison is a deadly one, milady," was the morbid response. "There may be a way to arrest its course, but I cannot guarantee it."

Merlin could feel his world crashing down around him. He was no fool. He knew what Gaius meant. With Arthur in this state, Merlin was his only chance. But looking at Arthur lying there, near dead, was not inspiring Merlin with much hope. The warlock felt sick.

On top of this, Merlin was filled to the brim with anger. He couldn't stand this innocent act of Gwen's. Already he'd suspected her, and after finding the evidence of her dress, Merlin knew that Gwen was the real culprit. While she feigned unparalleled distress, she must truly be feeling an abundance of triumph. The thought was revolting.

"One thing I know for certain. Whoever did this lives among us. Whoever did this has betrayed us all," announced Gwen, looking shocked and heartbroken. Merlin clenched his teeth. The answer was _Gwen_ _herself_, but obviously she wouldn't admit that, so where was she going with this? She must have some sort of plan, otherwise it made no sense for her to point out these things. "Someone who is free to roam this citadel as they please, someone who has access to the king's stables, the king's prison… even the king's food. There is only one I know of."

Gwen turned around, and Merlin had the smallest moment to grasp the turn of events before the condemning word left her queenly lips.

"Merlin."

* * *

Two of the knights marched past, Merlin being pulled roughly between them. Their destination was the dungeons.

Stepping out into the hall to watch them go, Mordred quivered with anger and astonishment. This was ridiculous and insane. Anyone who knew Merlin could not honestly believe that he was behind this. Gwen would _never _have believed it, had she been herself. Mordred, of course, knew him better than all others, and was surer of Merlin's innocence than that the sun would rise in the East. He even knew the true culprit, not that the knowledge would do him any good. He could hardly reveal Gwen.

As Gwaine started to walk past Mordred, the young knight grabbed his arm. Gwaine turned to him, startled.

"We need to speak as a matter of urgency," whispered Mordred. "Come to my chambers as soon as you can. Bring Percival and Leon with you."

Gwaine gave a sharp nod and walked off at a brisker pace. Mordred glanced round himself, reassured that the only people in sight were other knights: the Queen hadn't been within earshot.

Spinning about, Mordred headed straight for his chambers.

* * *

The door creaked open and Mordred turned to see Gwaine and Percival entering into his room. His brow creased, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Couldn't get Leon," explained Gwaine preemptively. Mordred closed his mouth. "He decided it was best that he stay with the Queen in Arthur's chambers."

Mordred nodded his acceptance.

"So what's this about, then?" prompted Gwaine. Percival looked at the druid knight expectantly.

"It's about Merlin," began Mordred. The older men both looked at him with surprise. "Merlin being accused of poisoning Arthur is… is… it's simply impossible. Both of you must know this as well."

Percival looked conflicted but Gwaine's expression hardened and he nodded in agreement.

"I know," Gwaine admitted. The three knights shared looks, knowing that their discussion could land them in unspeakable trouble. "No one in their right mind, who knows Merlin and Arthur, could ever think Merlin responsible for this."

"Percival?" encouraged Mordred. Percival sighed.

"With all due respect to the Queen, I must agree that on this matter she is mistaken. I too believe Merlin is innocent," the large man said.

"I can't believe that Gwen could ever even _think_ such a thing," said Gwaine, shaking his head with bewilderment. Mordred suffered a short moment of panic before Percival said,

"Her mind is overtaken with grief, Gwaine. It wasn't so long ago that she lost Elyan, and now, Arthur is near death's door himself. She just isn't thinking clearly. If she were, she would not have accused Merlin."

"I believe you're right, Percival," Mordred chimed in quickly. "Well, we all seem to agree. Excellent. Now we must devise a plan to get Merlin out of the dungeons."

"It can't be _too_ hard, seeing as our prisoners always seem to be escaping or getting murdered," said Gwaine with a touch of bitterness.

"Now hold on," objected Percival, putting his hands up in a 'slow down' gesture. "We can't break Merlin out of his cell."

"He's done nothing wrong!" was Mordred's heated reply. "To let him suffer there, when we know the truth, is inexcusable."

"I understand how you feel, Mordred, but it just isn't the sensible thing to do."

"I'm with Mordred," said Gwaine. "Merlin's a good friend. He would never let one of us rot in the cells like this. He deserves better."

"Is it terrible that Merlin's been thrown in the dungeons on suspicion of poisoning Arthur? Yes," said Percival. "We all agree on that point of fact. But it is also a fact that there is one who is worse off than Merlin, and that's our King. Merlin wouldn't want us plotting ways to break him free, he would want us to be doing everything and anything we can for Arthur."

"But what can _we _do for Arthur?" pointed out Gwaine. "You heard Gaius. It's a deadly poison. _Gaius_ is Arthur's only chance, not us."

"Perhaps, but _we_ can seek out the _true_ person behind all this," said Percival, his voice quiet, but filled with soothing confidence.

"We cannot just leave Merlin to stay in that cell until the Queen comes to her senses!" cried Mordred. He knew, after all, that she _never_ would. Merlin would _die_ in that cell or on a chopping block if they didn't get him out.

"But think what an advantage this gives us!" Percival remarked. "With Merlin in jail for the crime of poisoning Arthur, the real guilty person will feel safe. They will never suspect that they are in any danger. It will be easier for us to unravel the truth. Merlin would want that. He would support anything to help Arthur." Gwaine absorbed Percival's words, slowly nodding his acceptance, though seeming guilty and reluctant to do so.

"It isn't right," protested Mordred, but his fighting spirit had fled. Gwaine clearly recognized the wisdom in Percival's words, and Mordred could hardly admit that he knew their search for the truth would turn up nothing. No one would ever suspect Guinevere.

"No, I think we should listen to Percival on this one," said Gwaine softly. "Merlin can tough it out for at least a few days. He's dealt with worse. Hell, he probably deals with worse from Arthur every day!"

Gwaine smiled, attempting to inject the now deflated Mordred with a bit of amusement, but his smile faltered and vanished sadly when he saw that he had failed. Mordred was staring at the floor, looking completely empty and dejected.

_He sure is taking this hard_, thought Gwaine, somewhat surprised, _This kid's got a real pure heart, always so determined to do what's right, no matter what. I hope he never loses that_.

"Come on, we've got work to do," exclaimed Gwaine. He wrapped an arm about Mordred's shoulders, walking with him to the doorway. Percival followed. "There's a King who needs our protection. The sooner we figure out who's behind this, the sooner we get our boy out of prison."

"And don't worry about Merlin," said Percival gently. Now Mordred lifted his head, meeting Percival's eyes. "He's strong. He'll be okay."

This seemed to bolster Mordred's spirits a bit, and he gave a small smile.

"You're right. And, of course, Arthur is our first priority. I apologize. I just… hate to see a friend suffer."

Gwaine and Percival smiled in understanding, and the three friends left Mordred's chambers together to do their duty in protecting the King.


	15. A Helping Hand

_Author's Note: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm sorry about the long wait between chapters. Family matters have been keeping me rather busy lately. I thank you for your loyalty and support. WARNING: Spoilers for season 5 episode 7._

* * *

Gaius' head rose as his door burst open unexpectedly. His eyebrow went up.

"Mordred," he said slowly, almost as a question, gazing upon the young knight who stood just inside his doorway, "What brings you here?"

"I wish to help," replied Mordred bluntly, closing the door behind him and approaching the table where Gaius was currently laboring. The physician looked puzzled.

"Well, I do not know what you mean-"

"I am no fool, Gaius," said Mordred. "Merlin is of no use to his king if he is locked away in the dungeons for a crime he did not commit." Gaius was speechless. "I know you mean to break him out. There is nothing else you can do, after all, if you are to save Arthur's life. And I wish to help you."

Gaius remained silent for a moment. He was uncertain of what to do. Should he accept Mordred's sudden offer of assistance? Gaius had always thought Mordred to be sweet, kind, and thoughtful, and his eagerness to help in the effort of breaking Merlin out of prison to heal Arthur fit well into those thoughts.

But Merlin had never trusted the boy. Merlin had made it perfectly clear that Mordred was prophesied to kill Arthur, and could therefore not be relied upon for anything but evil. At least, that's what he _said_. Sometimes Gaius wasn't completely sure of Merlin's exact feelings on the subject…

A helping hand could be very useful, but would it be an insult to Merlin if Gaius accepted Mordred's offer?

Sighing, Gaius silenced his mind. Merlin would want Arthur to have the best chance of survival, and Mordred's help could make that difference.

"Very well," the old man said quietly, "I thank you for your help. Come here." He beckoned Mordred forward with two fingers. Mordred advanced obligingly. Turning back to his table, Gaius took an empty vial and filled it with a potion he had just finished brewing. Holding up the now-corked vial, Gaius said,

"I have made an aging draft. I will slip it down to Merlin in his cell. When he takes it, he will appear as an old man and he will be able to sneak past the guards."

Mordred nodded. "And what can _I_ do?"

"Merlin will have to get into Arthur's chambers. Not only that, but he will need the chambers to be empty of all but me when he does so."

"Then… it is a _diversion _you need."

"Yes. Merlin will know this, and so he will draw the attention of the guards. You must make sure that others see him, well enough to know he is there, but not well enough to discover his identity. And, of course, you must make sure that he is not caught. Most importantly, you must make sure that the citadel is put on high alert. Only in a state of emergency will the Queen be convinced to leave her husband's side, and we need that to happen."

"I will do as you wish. But is there nothing else I can do?" pressed Mordred, sounding desperate for another task. Gaius smiled softly at Mordred's obvious need to do everything in his power to help. It reminded him of Merlin. A _younger_ Merlin.

"I am afraid not," said Gaius, his heart heavy. "The rest will depend on Merlin."

* * *

Old Merlin took a large step over the unconscious body of the large cook, amused by his own handiwork. It was occasionally very freeing to be in the body of his old self, where no one knew it was Merlin so he was free to say and do the things he wanted to.

_I spoke with Gaius._

Merlin was so startled by the sudden voice in his head that he stopped briefly in his tracks, his brow crinkling. Grimacing, he replied, _Now isn't really a good time, Mordred. _Merlin's voice remained young in the mind though his body was now old.

_Now is the _only_ time, Merlin, _was the retort._ I wish to help._

Now Merlin was curious.

_Help?_

_Gaius says you need a diversion. I am to ensure that you are seen, but not caught._

Merlin thought this over. Mordred clearly knew all about what he and Gaius were planning—Mordred was no fool—and help could be the difference between life and death here. His own life, and worse, Arthur's.

_Are you sure about this? _he asked slowly.

_Yes, _Mordred replied confidently.

_What if I _do_ get caught?_

As he and Mordred conversed, Merlin stepped outside of the kitchens, peering down hallways and starting to make his way towards Arthur's room. It would be slow going, since he had to sneak around every corner.

_I won't let that happen,_ answered Mordred immediately, a fierceness to his words that caused a flutter in Merlin's stomach.

_It almost sounds as if you care_, Merlin replied lightly.

Matter-of-factly, Mordred answered, _Arthur's life depends on you._

Ah. Obviously. Why had Merlin even reacted to Mordred's words? This whole business was about saving Arthur. That's all that Mordred meant. Merlin was being silly. _Of course_, was his short reply.

_And, I _do _care, _added Mordred softly. The flutter returned to Merlin's stomach and his heart responded to the tender tone of the younger man's voice. Somehow, hearing it inside his own head made it feel all the more intimate.

_Still, _continued Merlin, after a brief moment spent wrapping his emotions tightly under control, _if I'm caught, and you're discovered to be helping me, we'll _both_ be executed. You truly want to take that risk?_

_With all my heart._

Merlin wasn't sure he could take much more of Mordred's sweet, subtly romantic statements whispering in his mind, tempting him, teasing him, making him melt inside. Right now, Merlin needed to focus on the matter at hand. Saving Arthur. It was time to wrap up this conversation.

_Very well. I figure the best way to get the attention of the guards is to make it look like someone is trying to get into Arthur's chambers. Make your way there, with other men. Approach from the right hand side of the corridor. I'll be there in no more than four minutes and I'll draw attention to myself before slipping away. That's when you give chase. Got it?_

_But how do you plan on getting back to Arthur's chambers? _questioned Mordred.

_Don't worry about that part, _said Merlin, halfway between a smile and a grimace,_ I've got a plan._

* * *

Mordred took a deep breath, hoping that his anxiety would be ignored, that others would assume he was merely anxious for the King. And he was, in a way. This plan was exceedingly delicate. The timing was _essential_. If anything went wrong, Arthur's life could be lost. The thought of losing such a close friend was a pain in Mordred's gut.

Mordred took steady steps at the side of Sir Gwaine. Gwaine, as a trusting friend, had gladly gone along with Mordred's quick suggestion to take a patrol by Arthur's chambers, just to be sure that all was well. If everything timed out correctly, their patrol should reach the hallway of Arthur's chambers just as Merlin did. That was when the real excitement would begin.

Nearly there. Only a few more steps. Five, four, three, two, one…

A loud clang rang out. Coming around the corner, Mordred observed a shadow on the opposite wall. The shadow raced away.

_Run quickly, Merlin_, he thought, as he and the others gave chase with cries of, "You there!" and "You! Halt!" They raced through the corridors, following the mysterious figure that Mordred knew to be Arthur's most loyal manservant. Mordred grabbed a torch from the wall as he passed it. Another cry: "There! This way!" They ran all the way down the steps into the Main Square outside.

_What are you planning_? Mordred wondered to himself. But he was relieved to find that Merlin was not in sight. So far everything was going according to plan.

"He's gone," said Gwaine. "We've lost him." When Gwaine raced off without raising the alarm, Mordred almost rolled his eyes. Apparently he'd have to do it himself.

Turning to the nearest guard, Mordred said, "Inform the men we have an intruder. Put the citadel on high alert." The man was slow to move, and Mordred waved an arm impatiently. Finally the guard rushed off to do as he was bid.

The bells began to ring. All of the guards and knights rushed to gather in the courtyard. Mordred looked around, trying to spot Merlin. He was half relieved and half anxious that he failed in his endeavor.

Suddenly, the torches all blew out. An air of tension spread amongst the knights.

"That was no wind," commented Percival. "That was sorcery."

"Light the braziers! Search the courtyard!" Leon shouted.

_Where have you gone? _asked Mordred after a minute of the knights unsuccessfully searching the Main Square.

Really_ not a good time right now,_ was the strained reply. Mordred might have laughed at Merlin's tone of voice, if the entire situation wasn't so worrying.

Mordred sent up a silent prayer to the gods that Merlin and Arthur would both make it through the night.

* * *

Merlin peered between a few barrels, watching the knights gather. This was perfect. It should leave Arthur's chambers wide open. It was also a bit horrible, since he now had to go unnoticed in a citadel that was ringing on high alert.

The warlock was momentarily distracted as Mordred came into view. Or rather, a particularly delectable view of Mordred's bottom. Merlin's thoughts drifted into pleasant daydreams…

Giving himself a mental slap, Merlin concentrated once more. His eyes flashed golden, and a nonexistent wind extinguished all the torches.

As the knights quietly panicked at the appearance of sorcery, Merlin took his opportunity. Grabbing hold of the cold stone, Merlin began to haul himself up the side of the castle. The shouts of men down below echoed as Merlin climbed his way up the wall. When Mordred spoke to him, Merlin gave a brief reply, frightened of losing his concentration and plummeting to his death.

Finally, he reached the window to Arthur's room.

"How on earth did you get in here?" Gaius inquired in amazement when Merlin emerged from behind the curtain.

"Don't even ask," was the reply. Merlin crossed quickly to Arthur's side. "How is he?"

"His heart has nearly stopped." Gaius joined Merlin by the bed. "I fear he's close to death."

Merlin reached out, placing a hand on Arthur's chest. He probed with his magic, testing the extent of the illness in Arthur. He didn't like what he found. Merlin's heart began to pound anxiously. His stomach was already twisting in fear. He'd never seen Arthur in such bad shape.

"The sickness is so deep in him." Merlin paused, still pushing against the edges of the poison residing inside of Arthur. He could barely hold back the tears threatening to come forth. Struggling to keep control of himself, Merlin continued, "I don't know if I have the power to bring him back."

"You can do this, Merlin."

Breathing with difficulty, Merlin stood up, wiping at his eyes as his anxiety took hold. Inhaling deeply, he bent back down, forcing himself to keep it together, for Arthur's sake. Pulling on a strong mask, Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's chest.

The words began as a harsh whisper, growing in volume as the spell rang forth from Merlin's lips. Twice, Merlin pressed down hard, to help restart the beating of Arthur's heart.

Upon the spell's completion, Merlin took a moment just to breathe. His energy was exhausted; he could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead. He felt weak inside. Everything felt tired and empty. Even his magic felt sore. More than anything, Merlin wanted to collapse, preferably into someone's arms.

A young druid knight came to mind, filling Merlin with a split second of happiness and peace. But this was no time for that. Merlin shoved all thoughts of Mordred away from his mind. Arthur was the only thing that mattered now.

Standing up straight and stepping backwards, Merlin steepled his hands in front of his face, watching as Gaius bent down to examine the King. The spell seemed to be having no effect. Barely holding it together, Merlin waited as Gaius took Arthur's pulse.

When the physician turned around, and met Merlin's eyes, silent, Merlin's control shook. Tears began to form, unable to stay inside the manservant any longer. He cried, shaking. Still Arthur did not move. The room was deathly quiet.

Then, like a miracle, Arthur shifted and a mumbled "Gaius" was heard as the King rolled over under his bed sheets.

Looking back towards his apprentice with surprise and relief, Gaius whispered, "Merlin…"

A chuckle of relief and amazement broke out of the young warlock.

"Well done, Merlin, well done!" exclaimed his mentor. Gaius and Merlin embraced joyfully. Merlin laughed again.

Drawing back, Gaius looked towards Arthur, before quickly turning back to Merlin, saying, "You'd better get back to the cells before you're missed."

Merlin stopped, dumbstruck. "There are guards on every floor, every stairwell. How am I gonna get back down there?"

"Well the same way as you came _up_, _obviously_."

"Obviously," repeated Merlin dryly. Gaius shooed Merlin towards the window, and Merlin turned and walked away, still exhausted and a bit amazed that even now he couldn't catch a break. If he fell and broke his neck on the way down, or got caught trying to break back _into_ his cell, after all that he'd just been through and accomplished, he would be very, very unhappy.

* * *

Gaius raised a hand and knocked upon the door of the guest chambers. As the citadel was still on high alert, he announced, "It is Gaius."

"Enter!" Gwaine's voice sounded clearly through the door.

Gaius entered the room, gently closing the door behind him. Holding his hands together in front of himself, Gaius met eyes with Guinevere, who had risen from a chair to approach him, an expression of panic on her face. Knowing that her concern for Arthur was just a ruse irritated Gaius, but he knew that, like Gwen, he had to play his part, so he let nothing of his feelings show on his own face. He glanced briefly towards a very somber Sir Gwaine, who was standing several feet behind the lady, before refocusing his attentions on the Queen.

"What is it, Gaius?" asked Gwen quickly. "Has something happened with Arthur?"

"Indeed. There has been… a change in his condition. I have come to inform you of it, as I promised I would," he replied solemnly.

The physician purposefully failed to mention that the change was a good one. His vindictive side enjoyed toying with the Queen: allowing her to feel triumphant, sure that her plan—or rather _Morgana's_ plan, no doubt—had succeeded, for just a moment, before he revealed the truth and squashed her happy assumptions.

Sure enough, a fake expression of despair flitted onto Gwen's features, proving that she was indeed assuming that Arthur had died.

"Well?" she pressed. "Is he… Has Arthur… Please, Gaius, just tell me what's happened."

Gaius remained silent and expressionless for a couple seconds longer, enjoying the look of growing sadness and desperation in Gwen's glance. Finally, he let a small smile break out on his face.

"There is nothing to worry about, milady," he assured her, "Arthur has responded well to treatment. I am pleased to tell you that he will make a _full_ recovery."

Gwaine's bright laugh rang out with joy and relief, as Gwen stood still, frozen with shock at the news. Gaius watched her carefully, but even now she did not break character. It was most impressive.

After a second of shock, a huge smile stretched across Guinevere's cheeks. Her hands flew up to her face and happy tears began to fall.

"Gaius, this is… This is _wonderful_ news!" she exclaimed, coming forward to tenderly clasp the old physician's hands. "Thank you. _Thank _you. I cannot possibly thank you enough for your services to Camelot."

Gaius inclined his head. "No need to thank me, Your Majesty. I am happy to do the work I do. I care very deeply for Arthur."

"We all do," added Gwen, smiling at him and squeezing his hands. Gaius returned the smile.

"I do think, however," Gaius said, "that just for tonight, it would be best if you stayed here in the guest chambers."

Puzzled, the Queen asked, "Whatever for?"

"While I am confident that Arthur will make a full recovery, he is not there _yet_. I feel it is best that Arthur remain alone so I may examine him fully when he regains consciousness, make certain that there are no unforeseen side-effects, before allowing others so near to him."

"Are you saying that I cannot even visit my husband tonight?"

"Not at all. As soon as it is safe, you are free to visit Arthur. Just do not stay too long. We should proceed cautiously. The King very nearly _died_ tonight. At the very least, I think this ordeal has taught us a thing or two about the importance of taking precautions."

Gwen nodded quickly. "Yes, of course. Of course you're right, Gaius. Very well. I shall only stay long enough to assure myself of his return to good health."

"Thank you for understanding, milady," returned Gaius.

Suddenly, a bell rang out through the castle. Gwaine's head cocked upwards as he listened.

"Well, apparently the citadel is no longer on high alert," he commented, with his own smile. Looking directly at Gwen, a kind twinkle in his eye, Gwaine continued, "I can escort you back to your chambers now, milady."

Gwen smiled gratefully at him. Together, they exited the room, and Gaius followed out after them, headed for his own chambers.

* * *

Mordred paced frantically inside his room. The citadel had just been called off of high alert, thank goodness, and Mordred had been released from his duties for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, sleep was not an option. Not until he found out what had happened. He'd tried speaking mind-to-mind with Merlin again, but the connection seemed to be failing. Mordred could only assume that this meant that Merlin had exhausted his magic, but that gave no indication of whether the warlock's efforts were successful or not.

After a few minutes, Mordred made a beeline for the door, planning to make his way to Arthur's chambers, where hopefully he could discover the answers he was looking for.

Before he reached the door, however, it flung open from the other side. Stunned, Mordred immediately stopped in his tracks and, before he had processed what was going on, a man jumped on him.

The knight's first instinct was to fight, to throw off his attacker, but luckily his brain caught up before his body took over his actions.

This was no random man. It was Gwaine. And he wasn't attacking Mordred. He had thrown himself upon the younger knight in order to hug him. And a rather tight hug it was.

Slapping Mordred's back friendlily, Gwaine drew off of him, grinning at his companion.

"Gwaine, what is it?" asked Mordred in amazement. Then it dawned on him. His features began to light up. "Has Arthur-"

"He's cured," confirmed Gwaine. "Gaius says he'll make a full recovery." Mordred beamed and flung himself at Gwaine, pulling the—now laughing—knight into another embrace, one that Gwaine returned whole-heartedly.

Mordred quickly released his friend and stepped backwards, still smiling brightly with relief.

"I do not know what to say," he admitted happily, "This occasion is too joyous for words."

"Trust me, I understand perfectly how you feel," agreed Gwaine. "It's a miracle."

"Now our King is safe and well once more-"

"Our King and _friend_," Gwaine added. Mordred smiled and nodded his head.

"Yes. Arthur is both our King and friend. He is an amazing man," he said. "And now that he is recovering, he can save _another_ friend as well."

A new smile appeared on Gwaine's face as he realized. "Of course! Now that Arthur's awake, there's no way he'll stand for Merlin being accused of this. You see, Mordred? Everything turned out all right. And there was never any need to break Merlin out of his cell."

_Well, _that _is not true, strictly speaking_, thought Mordred in amusement.

Gwaine reached out and clapped Mordred's shoulder, saying, "Now, we should both get rest. I imagine the princess will wish to see his knights tomorrow. We'll have to be looking fresh!"

"Of course," Mordred agreed, chuckling at Gwaine's usual nickname for Arthur. It was a nice indication that the dire days had truly passed. "I bid you goodnight, Gwaine."

"Goodnight yourself, Mordred. Sleep well." The older knight turned and made his way towards the doorway. "Dream of apples and pies, and cheeses that _taste_ of apple pie. Always serves _me_ well…"

Gwaine drifted off as he simply continued walking away while he spoke. Amused by Gwaine's odd remarks, Mordred closed the door behind his friend, and prepared to settle in for the night.

* * *

Arthur slowly woke from his slumber. As he became fully conscious, he groaned, turning over in his bed, and keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Arthur resented the way that his ears were ringing and his head was pounding, and he was becoming increasingly aware that his stomach felt full of ash. It was all he could do just to groan, rather than vomit.

Then a thought occurred to him. He was waking up, and yet there was no light behind the darkness of his eyelids. Ordinarily, Merlin woke him up early in the morning by throwing the curtains open and exposing Arthur to blinding sunlight.

So why was that not happening?

"Why is the sun not in my eyes?" he loudly asked the room, expecting to hear a snarky response from Merlin in return.

"Ah, Arthur, you're awake. Good."

The King's eyes flashed open and he sat straight up. Arthur struggled to ignore his aching and sick body and focus on what was important: finding out what had happened to both Merlin and himself. Turning his head, he saw the Court Physician seated on a chair beside his bed.

"Gaius, what are you doing here? Where's Merlin?"

Ignoring Arthur's questions, Gaius fixed him with a steady stare and asked, "What do you remember of last night?"

Arthur's brow dipped down confusedly. "I remember… dining with Guinevere. And then…" Arthur cringed as his body began to remember vividly. "…pain. Agonizing pain. Then nothing. What happened to me, Gaius?"

"You were poisoned, milord," answered the physician matter-of-factly. Arthur took a deep breath. "Luckily, I was able to arrest its course before it killed you."

Smiling gratefully, Arthur said, "Thank you, truly. For everything." Gaius smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

In the quiet, Arthur looked around, confusion seeping into him. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't quite place it. Then suddenly-

"Where's Guinevere? Is she alright?" he asked quickly, realizing her absence from the bed. Gaius raised a hand to calm him.

"The Queen is perfectly well, I assure you. She merely spent the night in the guest chambers. I thought it was best that she do so until I was able to examine you while conscious. I will inform her at once of your healthy state."

Gaius rose to his feet and, with a bow, headed for the door.

"Wait!" Arthur cried. Gaius obeyed and faced his King, as Arthur looked round the room once more. "Something still feels wrong…" Then it came to him. Arthur relaxed, smiling amusedly, ignoring the way his stomach was still twisting. "Of course. My bumbling fool of a servant isn't here. Where _is_ Merlin, anyways? I'm hungry. He best be here with my breakfast soon."

When Arthur saw Gaius' grimace, his heart dropped like a stone into the pit of his stomach. He _knew_ something was wrong. His instincts had clearly been correct.

"What is it? Where's Merlin?" he demanded quickly.

"I think _I_ can answer that."

The voice hadn't come from Gaius. Both King and physician looked in surprise towards the doorway. Just inside the room stood Mordred, though neither man had noticed him entering. Arthur's brow wrinkled quizzically as Gaius' eyebrows rose with surprise.

"Mordred, what are you _doing_ in here? At this time of the morning?" Now Arthur began to rise, climbing out of bed quickly. Gaius opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur beat him to it, saying, "I feel fine, Gaius, really. Just… a little weak. Now Mordred, tell me what you meant."

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to disturb the King's rest," said Mordred guiltily.

"It's alright, Mordred," Gaius replied, eyeing the boy thoughtfully. "I believe Arthur is healing just fine. Your Majesty, as you now have Mordred to answer your questions, I will go and fetch the Queen."

Arthur nodded. With a bow, Gaius left the room.

Looking very serious, Arthur got straight to business. "What's happened to Merlin?"

"Actually, that is the very subject I came here to discuss with you. I seek your help."

Mordred's words caused a flutter of panic in Arthur's stomach. He strode in powerful strides across the floor, crossing to his youngest knight.

"What is it? Is he hurt?" he asked anxiously.

"Not exactly, milord," answered Mordred. "He currently resides in a cell in the dungeons."

Arthur gaped with shock. "What for?" he cried.

"Merlin is suspected of treason."

"_Treason_?"

"Specifically, he is suspected of attempted regicide. Poisoning you." Arthur was so taken aback that his mouth hung open stupidly, but no words emerged, so Mordred went on. "The Queen believed that all the evidence pointed to Merlin, and so he was locked away." If possible, Arthur looked even more stunned.

"Guinevere? _Guinevere_ was the one who accused Merlin? I can't imagine her doing so. She and Merlin are close friends, and she _knows_ how loyal he is to me."

Mordred bowed his head. "Yes, milord. I do think that… with you in the state you were, the Queen was not thinking clearly."

"Yes, of course… So!" said Arthur loudly, gaining control of himself. "You say that you've come to me for help. I presume that means you believe Merlin to be innocent."

"Yes, sire, I do. As do many of the other knights. We wished to help Merlin ourselves, but felt it unwise to contradict Her Majesty in such a delicate time. We did not wish to cause her any more grief."

"I appreciate that, Mordred. As well as your loyalty to Merlin. You're right, his arrest is utter rubbish. We must get him out."

"I'll go down at once to release him," said Mordred, a smile breaking forth. He paused when Arthur shook his head slightly, saying,

"No, not yet. We must have some proof first. Something that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that Merlin was not involved in any way." Arthur drifted off into thought, staring at a spot in the air, his lips forming silent words. Mordred waited, trying to hide his impatience.

After a minute, Arthur snapped his fingers triumphantly, turning back to Mordred with a grin. "I was poisoned during my dinner with Guinevere. And I remember, I remember that just before our meal, I sent Merlin off to wash my clothes. He would have been in the kitchens. Go fetch the cook! Tell her the King wishes to speak with her at once."

* * *

_Author's Note: I initially intended on adding a couple more scenes to the end of this (to make it all the way through the episode), but I figure that you all know what happened, and this was fine for a stopping point. Hope you liked it!_

_So. Who else is heartbroken over the end of Merlin?_


	16. Interlude

_Author's Note: This doesn't actually fit into the story here. This very short oneshot is a piece of entirely pointless fluff that, if you were going to place in the story, belongs during the time when Merlin and Mordred were actually together. I decided to upload it just for fun, and as a sort of apology for how long updates take. I'm in the middle of a move, and I'm hoping that once it's past I'll be able to pick up the pace. So, here's your reward for sticking with this story despite the long waits! Thanks guys :) I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

One Cold Day in Camelot

Mordred frowned, gazing at his lover with concern. "Is everything alright? You do not look well."

"It's nothing. I just really hate the cold," Merlin admitted. "And I've got two choices. One, I can freeze, like everyone else. Or two, I can use my magic to keep myself warm."

"Judging by your shivering, I would say you chose the first."

"Always do. As much as I would love to stay warm—and trust me, I would—I can't risk draining my magic like that. What if something happens and I need to use sorcery to protect Arthur? No, I can't take that chance. I always have to be prepared."

"You're very dedicated to your destiny, Emrys. Always you are willing to sacrifice so much. I admire you."

Merlin shrugged. "A little warmth is hardly a big sacrifice. If everyone else has to face the cold, there's no reason I shouldn't as well."

"Except that if _you_ fall ill, Camelot would be in grave danger," Mordred pointed out. "There are not many others of which that is true."

"I'm not going to fall ill."

"How do you know? Look, there!" exclaimed Mordred, pointing at Merlin's hands. Startled, Merlin stretched his hands out, looking at them with concern. "I believe I see your fingers turning blue already."

Merlin stopped, shooting the smirking Mordred a look. "Oh, stop it."

"Well, if you cannot use your own magic to keep warm, allow me to offer my services."

Without waiting for a reply, Mordred stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist and holding the older man back against him. Butterflies erupted in frantic flights inside Merlin's stomach.

The druid's body heat alone helped to fend off the cold, but Merlin could also feel the warm glow of Mordred's sorcery seeping into his clothes, his skin; his whole body absorbed the welcome heat.

There was a lightness now taking root inside of Merlin, a gentle happiness, that he knew was not a product of the warmth, but a product of being touched by Mordred's magic. It felt as though his very soul was being caressed by the younger man's love. Smiling, Merlin let his eyes drift close.

"Do you feel warmer?" Mordred asked quietly.

"Much. Thank you, Mordred."

"It's my pleasure, Emrys. I'm always glad to help."

"Shame I didn't have you for all the winters before this one. I have a feeling you're going to come in handy."

"You are lucky that I am in love with you. I would never stand to let myself be used that way otherwise."

"Yes. I _am _lucky to have you," agree Merlin quietly, shifting the tone of the conversation. "I love you."

"Of course you do."

"Cheeky little-"

"You can't fight a tidal wave, Emrys."

"Is that what our love is? A tidal wave?"

"Yes. Or an avalanche, if you prefer."

"Right now I'd say it's more like… a forest fire."

"Destructive while paving the way for future growth and life?" was the confused response.

"No, I meant that it's full of heat," explained Merlin with a chuckle.

"Well." Mordred smiled suggestively. "_That's _certainly true."

Merlin understood the tone and felt his cheeks flush with a warmth that was not being provided by Mordred. "No, wait, I- I _meant_ because of _this_. _Right now_. The literal warmth you're creating."

"Ah. That too." Mordred still sounded smug.

"And as much as I appreciate this change from the freezing temperatures of the last few days, you should probably stop. I don't want you to use up all your magic on my account."

"You underestimate my powers, Emrys. There is no need to fret. I can last for hours," murmured Mordred in his husky tone.

The warm air of Mordred's breath brushed teasingly against Merlin's ear, and the manservant's cheeks darkened at the obvious double entendre as Mordred placed a light kiss on his neck.


	17. Betrayal

_Author's Note: Hey everyone. I am so sorry about the long waits. Life's just been a little crazy. I hope that I haven't lost all of my wonderful followers! To everyone still here, thank you so much for your support and dedication. WARNING: Spoilers for season 5 episode 8. (The chapter picks up after episode 8 ends.) Please review! It is often a review from a fan that gives me the motivation to keep writing._

* * *

Merlin was full of pain, both physically and emotionally. Morgana's plotting had brought him to the brink of death this day, and it was only due to the goodness in a young boy's heart that he was yet alive. In the nick of time, Merlin and the boy returned to Camelot and saved the life of the king. But in the process, the boy lost his life. Merlin could not help the ache of responsibility in his heart. The boy might not have been the innocent druid that he had pretended to be, but he _had_ been an innocent, and a kind-hearted soul. Death had claimed him much too early.

After attending to the royal duo, and barely holding his tongue about Gwen's betrayal, Merlin was finally free to go and rest in his own bed. He even walked half of the way to Gaius' chambers.

Then Merlin realized that there was only one place that his heart could even conceive of going tonight. He was too exhausted, beaten-down, and _depressed_ to go anywhere else.

He needed Mordred.

Merlin trudged through the hallways, making his way to a very familiar corridor with a very familiar chamber. Soon, he was there. Approaching the room, Merlin raised a hand to push open the door, when something gave him pause.

There was a good deal of noise emanating from within Mordred's chambers, the plodding of boots across the floor, hinges creaking as boxes were opened and slammed shut.

The sounds began to fade, so Merlin pressed an ear to the door, reaching outwards with his hearing the same way that he could reach outwards with his vision. He could not make out the words, but he heard Mordred mumbling something that sounded like the language of the Old Religion—magic.

What was he doing?

Merlin was so caught up in his confused thoughts that it took him a second to realize that the loudest sound was now boots stomping across the hard floor. And the footsteps were headed his way.

Flinging himself aside, Merlin rushed to the nearest corner. For some reason, he knew that he didn't want to be caught listening at Mordred's door. There was a dangerous tension in the air, Merlin could feel it, and it made him uneasy.

He rounded the corner just in time. He heard Mordred's door creak open and shut with a loud _click_. Mordred's footsteps began to echo down the hallway at a quick pace, though Merlin could only hear this because he was still using his magic to enhance his hearing. To anyone else, the sound would have been negligible. Mordred had always been rather light on his feet.

Feeling his pulse begin to race with fear, Merlin knew there was only one thing to do, though the guilt gnawed at him.

Sneaking down the stone halls of the castle even more silently than his friend, Merlin followed Mordred, his heart sinking with dread, though he still didn't have any clear suspicions, when their trek led them out of the castle.

* * *

"How could you not tell me of this, Morgana?" seethed Mordred, storming into Morgana's home. A cold smile curled on Morgana's lips, but she did not deign to look towards the intruder.

"Whatever do you mean, Mordred?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean. This is the second plot you have told me nothing of, and instead relied upon Guinevere alone. I thought we were allies."

"It was _your_ idea to take this relationship slowly," reminded Morgana innocently. "Did that not mean avoiding talk of such things?"

"You cannot keep me in the dark this way. How am I to trust you if you continue to do so?"

Now Morgana's head snapped round, her eyes flashing as they settled on the young man. "It is _precisely_ due to issues of trust that you were told nothing."

"Do you mean to say that you do not trust me?" asked Mordred, quietly indignant. "Still? How else may I prove myself to you? I gave you intelligence of the queen's whereabouts on the anniversary of her father's death. Had it not been for me, you would not now have her allegiance. You would never have been able to kidnap her and turn her against Arthur."

* * *

The words were cold stones filling Merlin's heart, dragging the sinking vessel down into the depths of his stomach, chilling him to the very bone.

Then, it was like something erupted inside of him. He did not feel cold, he felt hot, _blazing_ with heat. Merlin was full of a scorching rage and pain that lit his soul like a bonfire. His veins were fuses, burning to a crisp until they reached his heart, his heart that exploded in a burst of red-hot fury.

Deaf to all else now, all else but the roar of fire in his eardrums, Merlin stayed to hear no more. Whirling away from the door, Merlin set a swift pace back to Camelot.

* * *

Morgana gave an expression that spoke of too much for Mordred to fully understand it. It seemed like a smirk, but it was also sad, and almost, perhaps, a smile? "Believe me, I am grateful that you did. It was Gwen, after all, who told me something of great interest."

"What?" said Mordred, confused.

"You see, I did not think it prudent to warn you of my plans for the servant-boy when I learned of your intimacy with him." Mordred's raging heart froze. His blood ran cold with shock. "I presume that is why you are so angry now?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been fooling me this whole time, haven't you? Pretending to be my ally, while the enemy sleeps in your bed." Morgana sneered.

"How did-"

"Guinevere saw you. Embracing. With that… pathetic _weakling_. I must admit, Mordred, at the very least I thought you had better taste."

The insult dug into Mordred like claws, and his instinct was to leap to Merlin's defense. But that was no good. To do so would be to sacrifice everything he was trying to accomplish with Morgana. He could still salvage this situation, he knew he could. If Mordred could just convince Morgana that she was mistaken, everything would be fine. He had to try.

"My lady, I do, I assure you," he replied. "It is not what you think."

"Is it not? I think it is _precisely_ that."

"I knew, just as you did, that it is Merlin who is closer to Arthur than any other. And it is Merlin, astonishingly enough, that is often the reason for Arthur's survival when he should rather have died." Morgana's head tilted, her eyes squinting at him as though she judged his words. "I was only trying to help our cause by gaining the vital trust of such an important figure. With his affections for me, he will be blind to all I plan. Merlin has a very watchful and perceptive eye. This was the only way I could protect us from him."

"I don't believe you, Mordred," was the immediate reply.

"Why? I am telling you the truth."

"By all means, allow me to explain." There was a pause as Morgana stared him down, smirking dangerously. "When Arthur _miraculously_ recovered from being poisoned with _henbane_, it became very clear to me that someone with magic came to his rescue."

Mordred stiffened. "What are you implying?"

"There is none but you in Camelot with magic powerful enough to accomplish such a feat."

"I did not save Arthur."

"You _did_! You betrayed me," she snapped. Clenching her teeth, she said, "I quickly concluded that you could no longer be fully trusted. This suspicion was only confirmed after Guinevere's report. I'm afraid, Mordred…" When she looked up to meet Mordred's eyes, he saw the pain and the anger in them. His chest suddenly felt tight. "…our alliance has come to an end. Goodbye."

Mordred's eyes flashed open. "No!" he started to yell, but Morgana had already sent him flying into a wall.

Rubbing his aching head, Mordred willed himself to _focus_. He couldn't allow himself to become dazed and give her the advantage. He had to retaliate _now_.

Before he'd even risen, Mordred's eyes flashed gold and Morgana, too slow to react, flew backwards, crashing into a chair.

When Morgana stood, Mordred was already up, and speaking again. It was clear now that Morgana would not be convinced of Mordred's innocence. Well, then so be it. But before she dispatched of him—or at least until they battled, Mordred was a fairly worthy sorcerer himself, after all—Mordred would have his say. This was his last chance to leave a lasting impression on the crazed young woman.

He said, "If this is the way it must be, then perhaps you are right. It is time for me to be honest with you."

"Oh, I do love confessions," returned Morgana with a smirk, very pleased with herself. "Please. You are free to speak, for _I_ am most eager to hear."

"I love Merlin." Morgana's nostrils flared angrily, but in her eyes there was shock too. "In ways that you can no longer comprehend. And it _was_ me that saved Arthur's life when you poisoned him. I also love Arthur, as a friend and king. He is a good man. But I love you as well. I had hoped… I _still_ hope… that you might turn back to what you once were."

"I was weak and naïve."

"You were honorable and good," he corrected. "I hope that one day you can again experience the love you once felt. I cherish those memories of you, Morgana. You were nothing like what you are now."

Morgana shrieked. With a flash of her eyes, the High Priestess sent Mordred crashing through the door of her hut, out into the open forest. She followed, making her way outside as Mordred clambered to his feet.

Murmuring an incantation under her breath, Morgana raised an outstretched arm. The leaves and dust at Mordred's feet began to spin, whirling in a mad dance, getting in his eyes and sending him tumbling to the ground repeatedly. Crying out against it, Mordred scrambled backwards on the ground, trying to escape the spell. Morgana smirked when he backed up just as far as she'd been hoping.

The wind died as Morgana raised her hands above her head, calling out three loud words that rang with power in the quiet night air. Mordred's eyes flashed wide open as he heard a violent _crack!_ Sparing no time for looking towards the source of the sound, Mordred ducked and rolled, barely getting out of the way of the huge tree branch that Morgana had sent plummeting to the ground.

The witch hissed her displeasure at his escape, and raised her hand to begin another spell, but this time, Mordred beat her to it. His eyes flashed, sending Morgana flying through the air. As she flew, he whispered the words to yet another spell, and when she landed, she was surrounded by a ring of fire. Mordred felt near to tears seeing the friend he had once loved covered with dirt and grime and leaves, surrounded by an offensive spell of his own casting, and who was, as she rose to her feet, gazing at him with eyes so dark and hateful and _twisted_ that he could no longer see any resemblance to the young woman he'd once loved.

"Let us _stop_ this, Morgana!" he shouted over the roar of the flames. Morgana spun in a circle, squinting at the magical barrier. "I know that somewhere within you is the same woman who gave shelter and aid to a young druid boy she did not even know. I know that our time together has softened your heart. If you would only let me in, if you would listen to reason-"

Eyes flashing, Morgana shoved her palms outward. The flames blew away, being pushed by some invisible magical force of her own. Now they rose up to a great height before vanishing completely.

Murmuring under her breath, Morgana stared Mordred down as several objects came flying out of her hut and to her side. The knight swallowed hard when he realized they were all knives or daggers, of varying shapes and sizes, perhaps eight or nine in total.

Morgana flung her arms forward, and the weapons flew collectively at Mordred with alarming speed. Thinking quickly, Mordred's eyes flashed, and the tree branch that Morgana had earlier broken off rose from the ground, flying forward into the path of the knives. The young man let out the smallest sigh of relief as each blade buried deep into the wood, leaving Mordred unscathed.

Morgana, however, was less pleased. Jaw clenched, she pointed a hand towards the ground. The words she began to whisper soon became very clear to Mordred, and he froze with fear, his thoughts coming to a halt.

He knew that spell. He'd only heard of it, never practiced it, and he had no way to protect himself against it. When that tornado came for him, there would be nothing he could do but let himself by picked up and thrown any which way.

Mordred had a bad feeling that he would end this journey as a limp rag doll.

_Where did Morgana learn such a powerful incantation?_ he wondered in the brief second before the spell took hold. The tornado materialized, spinning swiftly through the leaves, headed straight for the young druid man.

As it picked him up, Mordred gave a yell. He was tossing and turning in the air, moving faster than his body had any right to, and in too many directions at once. Mordred felt sick, and yet he knew that the landing would be worse.

"_Stop_!"

A loud voice rang out over the noise of the tornado. Mordred's heart lifted with immense relief at the sound. Morgana, in shock, spun towards the voice, one that she recognized, though from years ago.

When she saw the man standing not five feet away, she faltered. She blinked, releasing the spell in her mind. Mordred tumbled to the earth, groaning as he impacted the solid ground painfully, though silently blessing the man's arrival for saving his life.

"Alvarr?" Morgana whispered.


	18. Love Lost, Love Gained

_Author's Note: This is the fastest I've updated in a _long_ time. I hope ya'll appreciate that! Thanks to all my new followers, and of course to all my old followers, for reading the story. A big shoutout to SkittleMachine for being awesome :) Please review! It means a lot to me to hear from you guys._

* * *

Calmed was not the word for it.

Contained. That's was Merlin was. He was just as furious as he had been the moment, hours ago, when he had heard the words from Mordred's own lips, the confession to sins beyond Merlin's reckoning, the confirmation that Mordred was every bit as evil as Merlin had ever suspected, the sudden shock of knowledge that it was _entirely Mordred's fault_ that Elyan, Mordred's _best friend_ (or so Merlin had _thought_), had died, and Gwen had been turned into Morgana's puppet. Merlin had never felt angrier, more betrayed. But that internal heat was being controlled by his willpower and the soothing cold stone against his back.

And so Merlin waited there inside Mordred's chambers, awaiting the return of the room's true occupant, perfectly contained.

Until the door opened, and in stepped Mordred the betrayer.

One glance, one brief look out of the corner of his eye at Mordred's face, was all it took for Merlin's hate to break through like water through a dam. Propelling himself off the wall, Merlin moved so quickly that Mordred had no time to do any more than turn his head towards Merlin, his eyes bursting wide open at the image of the wild man before him, before Merlin's hand was up, his mind focused on _squeezing_.

Mordred's eyes became wider as Merlin's power clenched round his throat, halting his breaths. The druid's hands flew up to his neck to claw at a hand that was not physically there. Snarling, Merlin used his magical grip on Mordred to hurl him through the air, until he slammed into the wall where Merlin had just been hiding in the shadows.

Merlin's insides vibrated with rage, an anger more intense than he'd ever experienced. He took it out on the helpless puppet in front of him even though, deep down, he knew that much of the anger was at himself. Merlin was furious at having allowed himself to be played the fool, disgusted that he'd ever been convinced to _care_ about this miserable creature! How could he have been so blind, so _stupid_? It seemed that no matter how many dying seers and ancient dragons warned him that a person was evil, Merlin was too stupid to listen, too stupid to actually_ heed their warnings_.

Well, now Merlin was paying the price, through excruciating heartbreak. Mordred, also, was paying the price. Merlin was making sure of that. It seemed much more likely, however, that Mordred would not pay through his heart breaking, but rather his _neck _breaking.

Merlin smirked.

Merlin knew he shouldn't like it, what he was doing… but he did. _More_ than liked it, in fact. A fierce hot surge of twisted joy raced through every inch of his body, flooding him with a feeling of _power_ and _control_ that he reveled in. His blue eyes danced in the darkness and a sick smile pulled at the corners of the warlock's lips as he squeezed harder, watching the traitor struggle uselessly at the hand constricting his windpipe, making it impossible to breathe. It was a rush, having this power over another human being: holding life and death in one's hand, quite literally. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. And no one could say that Mordred didn't _deserve_ this. Not after all he'd done.

After a few seconds, one strangled noise managed to escape Mordred's throat. It was this sound that suddenly snapped Merlin from his dark trance.

Eyes flying open in shock, Merlin released his grip and reeled backwards. A wretched coughing and wheezing filled the air where only moments ago there had been silence.

Merlin looked on in horror as Mordred continued to grasp at his throat, though Merlin's hold had vanished, and as Mordred's eyelids struggled to open every time they drifted closed, as though his body wanted to fade into unconsciousness from the attack, but he wouldn't let it. Remorse began to seep through the pores of Merlin's skin, dousing the remaining fire of his rage, and his stomach twisted sickly.

How could he have done this? He'd been provoked, certainly, but how could he have almost strangled the man that, up until this night, he had been in love with? A young man, a beautiful, wonderful man…

Wait. No. He wasn't that. He was a bad man, an _evil_ one.

But still…

For all his faults, Merlin had always considered himself ultimately _good_. But could someone "good" do this to someone they loved (for it was true, somehow, _even now_, he recognized the truth in himself that he still did love Mordred), and _enjoy_ it? Merlin felt sick to the core. The clear image of Mordred—young Mordred, sweet _"Let's just stay here for the rest of the day"_ Mordred—wide-eyed and failing to inhale as he clawed at his throat, burned brightly in Merlin's mind, and brought very sincere tears to his eyes.

A sob ripped itself from Merlin's throat and he collapsed to his knees in a shaking mess. Covering his face with his hands, Merlin rocked back on his thighs, trembling as the tears continued to tumble down.

Part of Merlin was crying over the pain he had just inflicted, and part of him was crying over his own stubborn foolish nature for refusing to stop loving Mordred. It was logically _insane_ to love the man that you knew had lied to you and betrayed you and threatened the livelihoods of everyone you hold dear.

"_Love doesn't rely on logic and reason, Merlin."_

The remembrance of Gwen's kind-hearted—and painfully accurate—words tore fresh sobs from the raw pit of his chest. When his tears had subsided, and he was only shaking, Merlin lifted his head from his hands.

Mordred's blue eyes were trained on his. There was no accusation there, not even any surprise, just exhaustion and perhaps… sadness. Pain.

Merlin bit back another sob. That just wasn'tfair. It _wasn't fair at all_ for him to feel sympathy towards this man, to feel _guilty_ for hurting him and being the cause of that look in his eyes. It was _not fair._

Mordred was slouched against the base of the wall. He was maintaining consciousness, a feat that was probably becoming easier as the moments passed by and his body continued to inhale the much-needed oxygen. His breathing was ragged and clearly difficult for the young man to accomplish. He coughed at times and occasionally his body would tense and his hand would fly to his neck, as his throat would seem to simply cease functioning—as if Merlin's power was still clenched tightly round it. But after a moment, Mordred would force another breath in and his muscles would relax once more.

His eyes did not leave Merlin's once.

It was several long minutes before Mordred had regained his voice enough to speak, and Merlin had ceased his flow of tears.

"Merlin…" whispered Mordred's hoarse voice.

Immediately, Merlin jumped to his feet and was out the door.

* * *

Mordred watched helplessly as Merlin quickly disappeared. He felt bile rise up in his throat.

Turning his head aside, Mordred vomited for several agonizing seconds. When he'd finished, he let his head snap back and rest against the wall as his body trembled.

Apparently he'd escaped one beating only to walk straight into another. And Mordred was smart; he'd figured out what had provoked Merlin's seemingly unprovoked attack. The only thing that made sense was if Merlin had followed Mordred, and seen him meet with Morgana tonight.

If only Mordred hadn't been so enraged that Morgana had almost _killed_ Merlin, he might not have been so hasty in his departure from his castle. He might have avoided the whole situation entirely by being careful and taking precautions. But in his fury, Mordred hadn't stopped to do so.

It was almost amusingly ironic. In caring too much for Merlin, Mordred had ensured that Merlin would never care for him again.

No. It was no good thinking about that. There was always hope. He couldn't bear to lose Merlin forever, so he simply wouldn't think about it. He should think instead about the other thing that had occurred this night, the happier thing. To an extent, at least.

* * *

_Earlier that night…_

"Alvarr?" Morgana whispered.

Indeed, the once-rebel of Camelot stood only a few feet away, his brow crinkled disapprovingly. Shooting Morgana a steely look, Alvarr took powerful strides past her, coming to Mordred's side.

Mordred smiled gratefully, albeit weakly, as Alvarr pulled him to his feet.

"Why would you do this?" asked Alvarr quietly, turning towards Morgana. She looked dumbstruck, and no words came out of her mouth. "Why would you strike one of your own? Do we not receive enough from the hands of the Pendragons, now we must kill each _other_ as _well_?"

Morgana came back to her senses, and her features hardened coldly. "You know nothing of this," she snapped, "You have no right to judge me so quickly." Morgana's eyes flicked towards Mordred with a look of pure hate.

"No?" returned Alvarr, instinctively stepping in front of Mordred, shielding him with his body, just as he would have when Mordred was still a little boy. "I have heard much of you in these recent years, milady. Rumors. Whispers on the wind."

Morgana stiffened. His words were polite enough, but his tone was mocking as he addressed her with formal title.

"And yet I see that you have chosen to act as a coward," she sneered, "Hiding yourself away somewhere in safety while _others_ fight against the Pendragon rule _alone_."

"Many things you have been, Morgana, but alone is rarely one of them. I've heard stories of the allies you've made and the armies you've commanded. I've heard of the _terror_ and _destruction_ you have wrought in this land."

Morgana was yet again shocked. This fierce coldness was not something she associated with the memory of Alvarr. Alvarr was supposed to be full of fiery passion, charm and wit. In her memories he was a seductive figure and an ally, not this enemy that appeared before her now.

"I thought that you of all people would support my cause," replied the witch incredulously. "Is our freedom not the goal you once strived for yourself? What has happened to you, Alvarr, that you no longer _fight_?"

"The better question is, what has happened to _you_?" he returned softly. His expression melted into a kinder one, one that was more familiar to Morgana, and she found that it stole her breath away as it had many years ago. Alvarr stepped slowly closer to her.

"The Morgana that I met was good and beautiful," Alvarr continued. His eyes gazed over her face and he smiled gently. Morgana felt her pulse quicken. "She had a dream of better days and she had the heart to help those who would fight for it. But she would never have committed the acts that you have. She would have known the difference between those who deserved her wrath and those who didn't."

"How-" stuttered Morgana. She cut herself off, trying to pull her thoughts together. Masking her emotional confusion with a glare, she demanded of him, "Why have you come here?"

Alvarr glanced back over his shoulder, before turning once more to Morgana. "Mordred sent for me, by sending messages with a raven."

Morgana gaped at the younger man as he walked quietly forward, taking a steady place at Alvarr's side.

"When I was a young boy," said Mordred, "I often did not have a home. I had one with my father, until Uther executed him. I then had one, for a time, with Aglain and the druids. But even there did Uther extend his bloody hand, taking from me yet another place of safety and comfort. I feared I would never again find a home."

"As _touching_ as this tale is, I fail to see-"

"And then I found Alvarr," continued Mordred, ignoring Morgana's interruption. Now Morgana quieted. "I found a good cause to devote myself too. And when Alvarr and I sought you out for your aid, and you visited us at our camp, I suddenly felt at home again. I felt safe in the company of those that I truly loved."

Morgana fought against the tears threatening to well in her eyes.

"And I know that you felt it too. I may have been young, but I could see how you cared for Alvarr, and that he in return cared for you. I allowed myself to hope that perhaps a 'home' was no longer just a wishful dream."

"Clearly your hopes were wrong," said the High Priestess cruelly. She was struck to the heart by the sadness in Mordred's eyes.

"Indeed, they were," he agreed. "Uther took yet another home away from me. I was filled with such… hate, such rage. I wanted nothing more than to see Uther fall. I became…" Mordred's face twisted with pain as he recalled the memories. Alvarr placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "…obsessed, and… broken. I roamed through the woods, alone. When I would come across bandits or, worse, knights of Camelot, I spared none. I used my powers to kill, carelessly. I thought only of finding a way to seek revenge on he who had wronged me, and I did not care who was hurt along the way."'

"And then _we_ found him," Alvarr chimed in. Morgana looked at him with surprise, but he was gazing at Mordred. He then turned to look at her as he spoke his next words. "After you bravely risked yourself to set me free [Morgana's heart jumped again at the admiration in Alvarr's eyes], I ran. I thought of gathering followers again to lead a rebellion against the king. Before I could, I was found by a band of druids. They took me in, showed me compassion and cared for me, and I felt at peace. I was content to remain there, as I knew that I could hardly take on the might of Camelot without an advantage like the Crystal of Neahtid. That's where I was when I found Mordred again."

Mordred and Alvarr shared a friendly smile.

"I knew nothing of this," said Morgana, staring accusingly at the younger man.

"I did not feel it necessary to tell you," he replied simply. "The point is, Morgana, that they saved me. The druids gave me a place to live, a community. I met many wonderful people there, and though they instilled in me again the importance of non-violence, they were all willing to forgive my past mistakes. I will forever be grateful to them. And it was Alvarr who made me feel at home again."

"I still do not understand why you are here," Morgana finally snapped at the man. Alvarr looked grim.

"I wish to help you," said Alvarr.

"I thought that you do not approve of my methods."

"No, I don't mean to help you with your schemes," he corrected. "I mean to help you remember the woman you used to be. To find that woman inside of you, and become her again."

"I need no help!"

"You _do_," Mordred disagreed. "Only, you do not see it. Please, can't you remember what it was like? The way things were when you loved? I know that somewhere inside of you, you still care for us. All you need to do is accept that side of yourself. You need a home. That is what we can give you."

"Why should you even care?" Morgana demanded of Alvarr. "It's not as if you truly cared much for me when we first met. So if you do not like me now, why care at all?"

Alvarr smiled. Taking a few steps closer to the witch, he reached out a tender hand and brushed some of her wild black hair out of her face. Morgana froze at the touch, feeling her heart respond _yet again_ to the older man's charming ways. Why was it _doing_ that?

"You are entirely mistaken, Morgana," murmured Alvarr, his eyes roaming over her face with gentle longing, "if you think I was ever indifferent to you. I cared for you then, and I still care for you now. As I still care for Mordred. He has your best interests at heart, and I would do anything for him. Even so, I would not have needed his request to do this for you. I also have your best interests at heart."

Tongue-tied, Morgana clenched her jaw shut, staring stubbornly away from Alvarr as she tried to decide upon a course of action. She was at a complete loss. Emotions she hadn't felt at all in a _long_ time had suddenly resurfaced inside of her at the reappearance of her old acquaintance. Within her, these barely-remembered feelings battled against her more recent self, the one that was empty of such trifling emotions and who focused only on winning, on reaching the goal. The cold numbness inside of her heart that had settled firmly in place over the years was not prepared for this sudden hot burst of chaos.

As Morgana paused to think and attempt to stifle her internal war, Alvarr turned towards Mordred.

"Perhaps you should allow me to speak with her alone," he recommended softly, trying not to disturb Morgana from her thoughts. A flash of concern crossed Mordred's face.

"I'm not sure if that's the wisest-"

"Please, Mordred." Alvarr gazed at him pleadingly. "I know what I'm doing."

Mordred was still hesitant. Alvarr was his friend, and though Mordred loved Morgana, he didn't trust her not to kill Alvarr if the mood took her. Alvarr wouldn't stand a chance against her magic. Only Mordred—or Merlin—could possibly face Morgana and have a hope of survival.

But Alvarr's face was set stubbornly. Swallowing his fears, praying that Alvarr truly did know what he was doing, Mordred inclined his head.

He stepped forward. He and Alvarr clasped arms like brothers. With one last smile, and one last glance at the seemingly entranced Morgana, Mordred turned around and walked away, back to Camelot.


	19. How Will I Know

_Author's Note: Life is crazy, everybody. Here's the latest chapter! I hope it makes up for the wait. I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully it should be up soon, but I __make no promises. Please leave a review. I love to hear from you guys. This chapter is dedicated to Fantasma, whose review really gave me the encouragement to finish this chapter. Thank you so much._

* * *

_Merlin_.

The voice echoed in his head day and night.

_Merlin._

In the morning when he woke, at midday when he ate, and at night when he settled in to sleep.

_Merlin_.

When they passed in the halls, the traitor's eyes would lock on Merlin. Merlin never turned his head, nor did he respond to the loud and pleading voice inside his mind.

_Merlin_.

After the first few days, Merlin began to wonder why Mordred never said anything more. If he was so desperate to talk to Merlin, as his persistence seemed to indicate, why did he seem so determined to get a response first? Why not just keep speaking? It's not as if Merlin could very well _stop _him from doing so.

Well, if Mordred was waiting for Merlin to reply, he was never going to receive the satisfaction.

_Merlin_.

The servant boy didn't so much as flinch as he poured more wine in the king's goblet. His blue eyes never twitched towards a certain young knight a ways down the banquet table.

That didn't stop a picture perfect image of said knight from appearing in his mind.

_Merlin_.

The physician's assistant smiled calmly at his friend, Percival, as Gaius tended a small wound on the large man's arm. There was no indication that another presence in the room was trying to get his attention, or that he was using any effort to ignore them.

Well, perhaps the smile was a bit forced, but surely that was just because his friend was hurt.

_**Merlin**__!_

The king's personal aid winced when he slammed into the ground. The horse had thrown him, and luckily there was no serious injury, but it did give him quite a jolt, sending an unpleasant shock wave down his spine.

In his moment of vulnerability, Merlin forgot.

_Mordred_! he snapped back, his inflection mockingly imitating Mordred's concerned cry, his full irritation from _days_ of being pestered by Mordred filling the one word.

Merlin ceased breathing for a full five seconds when it hit him, what he'd done.

Mordred had broken him. Merlin had allowed a momentary painful distraction to break him. Mordred had won.

Even worse, Merlin knew in his heart that Mordred hadn't even been _trying_ that time. The telepathic call had been too immediate, too instinctual. It was worried, not an attempt at manipulation.

Merlin grit his teeth in pure anger at himself. Only when Arthur came rushing to his side, a worried look on his face, did Merlin put on a goofy grin and jump to his feet, brushing himself off and assuring the riding party that he was perfectly intact.

When Merlin scanned the faces of all the other knights—all of whom were still on their horses, apart from Arthur—he noticed something different about Mordred. There was a new light burning in his eyes, and it made Merlin even angrier with himself.

It took all his strength to retain a cheerful demeanor for the rest of the ride, particularly once Merlin realized that, despite his victory, Mordred _still_ didn't continue speaking to him! It drove Merlin _mad_ that he couldn't decipher Mordred's thoughts in the slightest.

Merlin did his best to focus on Arthur (who was, of course, fondly mocking Merlin for his clumsiness) and nothing, and no one, else.

* * *

"Hello, Merlin."

Merlin stilled, his eyes rising from the table and staring straight ahead into the wall. He looked back down, maintaining a steady expression, saying, "I suggest you leave before I kill you."

"Please, let me explain-"

"_Explain_?" Merlin snapped, spinning towards the young man who had joined him in the physician's chamber. "There's nothing to explain. I know everything I need to know now."

Mordred took a step forward. "No, you don't-"

"You are a traitor, Mordred," the warlock interrupted. "And when I find a way to prove it, I will go to Arthur, and I will have you executed."

"I don't know what you saw, but I swear to you, not all was as it appeared to be," said Mordred.

"Oh, it wasn't?"

Every muscle of Merlin's body was taut, and in his blue eyes Mordred saw a rage hotter than a thousand burning suns. Mordred's stomach churned with what he acknowledged as fear. "Please, Merlin, calm down."

"_Calm down_?" Merlin seethed, stepping three paces forward until there was only a few feet of space between the two men. Mordred firmly held his ground, despite the quickening _thump thump_ of his heart. "How can you possibly expect me to be calm? How could you even _think _to ask that of me? After what I witnessed…"

"Everything is just a misunderstanding," pleaded Mordred, "if you'll only listen-"

"You're a traitor," said Merlin bluntly, shaking his head and looking away as he reined in his temper. "It's that simple. You have been, all along."

"No!"

"Working with Morgana," he continued, still refusing to look towards his once friend and lover. "Everything you ever said to me, everything you ever _pretended _to feel for me, was a lie."

"I didn't-"

"I let myself _care_ for you, _despite_ what I knew about your intentions towards Arthur!" Merlin shouted, his eyes flashing back to Mordred. The pain reflected in them tore at Mordred's heart, and the druid found that he wished for nothing so much as a way to reassure Merlin of the truth of his affections. And yet, what could he say? "I should have listened to the dragon _long_ before now. You've betrayed Arthur, betrayed Camelot… betrayed _me_."

Mordred latched onto this last remark, quickly answering, "I never betrayed you."

"_You don't think so_?"

"Never did I tell her that you are Emrys," he pointed out. "I could have, but I didn't. I kept your secret, as I always promised I would."

Merlin paused, his anger once more under his control as he let Mordred's words echo inside his head. So much was true, clearly, but why? Why wouldn't Mordred have told her? His mind scrambled for an explanation.

Calmed by Merlin's quiet, Mordred tried one last time, his voice soft and gentle.

"Please, Merlin. Hear me out, at least."

Merlin stared into Mordred's eyes for several long seconds. Finally, his voice cold, he said, "I have no reason to. Stay away from me, and stay away from Arthur, or I _will_ kill you."

Fighting both tears and vomit, Mordred left.

* * *

The druid knight locked himself inside his chambers. Many hours were spent pacing as he tried to devise a plan to convince Merlin of his devotion and of the truth behind his actions with Morgana.

As his head began to ache and his legs grew tired, a noise at the window called Mordred's attention. On the windowsill perched a raven, a note tied to its leg.

Mordred rushed to the bird, quickly removing and unrolling the message. It read:

_All is well. Give me a few more days with her. I believe I can see changes already. I am hopeful._

_~A_

For the first time in many days, an honest smile blessed Mordred's face. He was glad to hear this news. It inspired him with hope that his dream of restoring Morgana to what she should have been had life been kinder was indeed more than a naïve fantasy.

Alvarr was a good man. To come so swiftly at Mordred's call, and now to be risking his wellbeing, all to help Mordred and a woman he'd met only briefly. Alvarr was a good friend.

Alvarr…

An idea struck. The second hopeful smile of the day lit Mordred's face.

* * *

A perplexed King stood inside Camelot's vaults, along with his Queen, his physician, and his most trusted servant. Arthur put his hands on his hips, allowing his eyes to drift over his surroundings.

"The door was completely undamaged," he said aloud, voicing a fact of which they were all aware. "Perhaps this was just a stupid prank."

It was late at night when the new shift of guards had found the earlier shift sprawled on the floor unconscious, leaving the vaults unguarded. The first assumption had been that someone had broken into the vaults to steal something. However, a closer look had conclusively proven that there was no forced entry, and a thorough sweep had been done of the room, revealing that nothing was missing.

"That is possible, sire," agreed Gaius. He shot Merlin a sidelong glance as he continued. "However, a sorcerer with enough power _could_ have used magic to open the door without leaving any mark."

_Or someone with access to a _key_, _Merlin thought coldly, glancing aside at the Queen. Gwen looked just as confused as Arthur, but then, she had proven herself a skilled actress.

"But everything is accounted for?" checked Gwen. "Nothing was taken?"

"It… does appear that way," Gaius reluctantly admitted. He too was unsure what had happened, but he did _not_ believe it would be smart to write the incident off.

"It doesn't make any sense…" Arthur murmured, shaking his head. After a moment he sighed. "It must simply be someone's bad idea of a joke." Arthur's eyes turned towards his manservant. Merlin was walking slowly around the room, briefly examining each shelf, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Merlin, what are you doing? Everything's here."

"I know, I'm just… looking," replied Merlin vaguely, continuing on. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Well come on, we may as well leave, there's nothing to be found."

Arthur headed the way out of the vaults, Guinevere following close behind, and then Gaius. Sighing, Merlin was about to give up and go as well, when something drew his eye. Something about that bag, the shape of it, felt familiar, and yet… it felt _wrong_.

Merlin slowed reached out and opened the velvet bag. Turning it upside down, he let its contents plop into his waiting hand.

It was a crystal. And it wasn't just any crystal. It was the Crystal of Neahtid.

Except that it wasn't. It was cut the same as the real crystal, but Merlin had felt the power of the real crystal before. This crystal had none. It was a fake.

Hurriedly placing the crystal back into the bag and on its shelf, Merlin rushed out of the vaults, jogging to catch up with the others.

_Gwen must have stolen the key and done the swap. But why would Morgana need the Crystal of Neahtid? _he thought confusedly._ Kilgharrah said that she did not have the power to wield it, that only Mordred and I could unlock its-_

Merlin stopped dead in his tracks.

Mordred.

* * *

Merlin pushed through the door to Mordred's chambers, his mind filled with stony purpose. Mordred was seated at the table, his fingers drumming against its surface. When Merlin entered, he calmly raised his head, meeting Merlin's gaze with a delicate smile.

Clearly Merlin had been expected.

"What does Morgana plan for you to do with the crystal?" he asked bluntly.

"Nothing," was the honest answer. Mordred rose and walked towards Merlin, leaving plenty of space between them. "Morgana knows nothing of it."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I do." Mordred crossed the floor to his bed, and Merlin followed.

"Why?"

"Because I have it just here." Mordred plucked the crystal from underneath his pillow and help it up. Merlin's pulse increased as he glanced towards the magical object and felt the power radiating from it. "If I'd intended to give the crystal to Morgana, she would already have it. I would not have waited for you to come."

"And why _did_ you wait for me? What do you mean to do with it?"

"I need to show you something," said Mordred.

"What?" was the confused reply.

"Let me reveal to you what happened that night after you went away." A hint of Mordred's heartbroken desperation seeped into his request. But only a hint. "You know the Crystal cannot lie. So why would I show you if I wasn't innocent, as I've claimed?"

"You can control it?" asked Merlin, surprised.

"Of course," Mordred answered with an easy smile. "I trained to do so. Once upon a time, that was to be my duty as a member of the rebellion. I can make the crystal show just what I want it to, if I know what I'm looking for." The two sorcerers locked eyes, neither speaking, both waiting for Merlin's decision.

Merlin admitted to himself that he was curious to see what Mordred wished to show him. But could he be certain that this was no trick? Merlin could sense no way for this to be a trap, but he'd been wrong before. Could he risk it? Well, what was the harm in letting Mordred have his say?

There was a part of Merlin that distrusted Mordred entirely, that hated him even, that despised his very being, and this part didn't see the point to giving Mordred a chance to make his case. The evidence was too conclusive. There was no reason to give a traitor, someone allied with Morgana, the opportunity to so much as _speak_.

And yet, as much as the warlock tried to lock it away and never think on it, as much as he hardened his heart to Mordred and convinced himself to feel nothing but _cold _in Mordred's presence, there was a part of Merlin, deep down in the very essence of his soul, that loved Mordred. That had never _stopped_ loving Mordred. That _still_ loved Mordred, every time he smiled, every time his blue eyes met Merlin's, every time his gentle voice filled the air.

This was a part that Merlin was not even completely aware of. But it was inside of him, and it refused to let Merlin walk away. It didn't allow Merlin to ignore Mordred's request. It forced Merlin to hope.

"Show me," came the brittle acceptance. Mordred smiled and walked over to Merlin. When he came within a foot of the older man, Merlin instinctively took a step away. Mordred stopped.

"If you wish to see what I call forth in the crystal, you will have to allow me to grasp your hand."

Merlin's heart broke into a gallop.

"_What_?"

Grimacing apologetically, Mordred said, "Only the sorcerer who controls the crystal may see what it shows. This power is only extended through physical touch. We must be in contact if you are to see what I see." Mordred held out a hand.

Merlin's jaw clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, steeling himself. Eyes snapping open again, Merlin swiftly grabbed the druid's hand in a rather tight grip. Merlin could feel his heart beginning to pound and his palms beginning to sweat anxiously. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed Mordred's hand even more tightly out of pure stubbornness.

Merlin desperately fought the tears that he knew were threatening to build. The soft hand in his invoked memories of flirting, of smiling, of trusting, of loving. Memories that had no business affecting him this way. Memories that shouldn't cause his heart to race, but did. That shouldn't force him to look wistfully at the man beside him, but did. Memories that dared to crack the barrier of ice that Merlin had built around his heart.

For a brief moment, the two sets of blue eyes stared deep into each other. There was an obvious connection, and it was impossible to deny that the same sense of longing, desire, and pain lingered in both pairs. Mordred's eyes also held a shining mist that hinted at coming tears.

"Well?" Merlin forced out, his voice gravelly. Mordred jolted out of his daze, shaking himself free of the magic-less spell.

Mordred swallowed, but turned to the crystal, holding it in front of them both. He took calming breaths, allowing his mind to let go of the memories and focus on the present. His eyes became locked in the crystal's depths by a power that was not his own; he concentrated, focusing his mind on the very specific event he wished the crystal to show. His body trembled slightly and his skin gained a pale sheen of sweat. Noticing, Merlin's head jerked to the side, gazing at Mordred with concern.

Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to feel anything but _cold_ for Mordred. He bit his tongue angrily.

_Look_! Mordred demanded. Head snapping forward again, Merlin leaned in close, to watch the scene appearing in the Crystal of Neahtid.

Both men watched as Mordred entered Morgana's hut, as they argued, then as Mordred came clean about his intentions. Mordred wished he could glance Merlin's way, to see his reaction, but to keep the spell intact, his eyes stayed glued on the crystal. They watched as Morgana and Mordred battled (Mordred winced as his body remembered the pain and his heart remembered the ache), and they watched a third figure approach.

Merlin stifled a gasp. This was Alvarr, once leader of the group of bandits that Mordred had been a part of. Mordred kept control of the crystal until they'd watched Mordred walk away. Focusing his mind on something else now, the crystal showed a confusing mirage of images as Mordred sought another specific moment. The crystal latched on, and the scene cleared.

_Morgana and Alvarr sat together in her hut. They sat beside each other on her bed, close enough that their thighs were practically touching. Morgana's eyes were downturned but Alvarr's gaze was directed at the sorceress._

_This is happening now_, explained Mordred. Merlin kept his eyes locked on the crystal.

"_Is that truly what you desire?" Alvarr asked softly._

"_How can it _not_ be? What else would you have me do? Give up? Continue to allow our people to _suffer_ at the hands of my brother?" she growled. Her eyes shifted sadly, telling a different story than her fierce tone._

Merlin experienced an explosion of inner turmoil, the like of which he hadn't felt in regards to Morgana in a long time. He'd never ceased feeling guilty for his part in her ruination, but he had long ago stopped feeling true compassion for her, unlike Arthur, who still cared deeply for her despite all she'd done.

But seeing that uncertain flinch of Morgana's eyes, the poorly concealed pain in her expression, added to the fact that by her words alone it was clear that she thought she was doing the right thing—and, as Mordred had once pointed out, who was Merlin to judge? Had Merlin not supported a King before Arthur who had been just as ruthless? How could he be so hypocritical about this?

Merlin felt sad. He felt sympathetic, and sick, and guilty, and heartbroken.

Tearing his hand away from Mordred's, Merlin took several shaky steps away. He leaned against the table, breathing heavily.

Mordred was absorbed inside his powers, inside the immaterial world of his sorcery, but, feeling a strange jolt, he became aware of the vague sense that something had suddenly detached from him. Blinking his eyes, Mordred pulled back into himself, shoving his magic away, allowing the crystal's image to fade into nothing.

Mordred turned to see Merlin leaning against the table, his back to the younger man. Sucking in a worried breath, Mordred dropped the crystal on the bed and strode quickly to Merlin's side. He reached out a hand.

Barely had he touched Merlin's back before Merlin reacted, standing bolt upright and stepping backwards several feet, eyes locked intensely on Mordred's. Mordred froze in his place.

Inhaling sharply, Merlin demanded, "Talk. Now."


	20. Morgana's Love

_Author's Note: Yay, look at that! What'd I tell you guys? Pretty quick, huh? Unfortunately, it might be a while before I can finish the next chapter. I'll do my best to post soon. A big welcome to all my recently-joined followers, a big thank you to everyone who has put this story on their favorites list, and a big hug to everyone who has reviewed the story (particularly the last chapter, since I've thanked most of the others already)! I really appreciate each of them, thank you._

* * *

"I've been trying to help Morgana," Mordred explained. "To_ change_ her."

"_What_?"

"You know about my fate and destiny."

"Yes."

"My destiny and Morgana's are one and the same."

Merlin paused. "To return magic to Camelot?"

"Yes." Mordred nodded. "And her fate is to face you, to face Emrys, in battle. But the outcome of this battle is not something that can be known."

"So?" asked Merlin impatiently.

"Morgana is set down a path of destruction. If she defeats you and rules Camelot once more, she will surely bring ruin to the land. She has turned away from all love except _mine_. I believe that I may yet fix that."

Merlin's brow drew together warily. "What do you mean?"

"I wish to restore the goodness in Morgana's heart. It was once there, you and I both know this," stressed Mordred, his expression almost gentle enough to be considered a smile.

Now that Merlin was no longer looking into the crystal, into Morgana's saddened eyes, it was easy to ignore what he'd seen. A momentary flash of pain did not in any way mean that Morgana was on the mend. Merlin was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Morgana was too far gone to be saved. She had committed acts of evil that there was simply no coming back from. The fact that she could still experience more emotion and heartache than she let on didn't mean anything.

Therefore, the warlock's dry response was, "Well it isn't there any_more_-"

Frustrated, Mordred interrupted, "_Please_, Merlin, just…" Mordred stopped, sighing. Merlin's eyes narrowed with displeasure, but he held his tongue. "I want to be sure that even if she takes the throne, that she remembers not to hate all people indiscriminately. Her hatred for Arthur is too deep now for me to repair it-"

"So is the _rest_ of her hate!"

"-but I wish to be sure that her hatred does not extend beyond Arthur, so that if she seizes control of Camelot, its people will be cared for."

"And how exactly does a bandit, a _traitor_ to Camelot, fit into these plans?" Merlin asked sharply.

"Whatever you may think of Alvarr, he is a good man," returned Mordred. "I have not always agreed with his ways, but his heart is pure. He doesn't condone the ruthless tyrant that Morgana has become. He disapproves of her senseless killings."

"Why is he here? With her, now?"

"Because I asked him to come. As a favor for a friend."

Merlin gave a humorless snort. "Friend. So you brought him to see her. He means to change her back, just like you mean to do?"

"Yes."

"So how long before she attacks him too, I wonder?" taunted Merlin.

Mordred's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't believe she will. She cared deeply for Alvarr, and in the same way that her love for me has remained, I believe she was struck by his presence." A lift of the eyebrows displayed Merlin's unspoken disbelief. "Don't you see, Merlin? I want to rekindle her love, I want to remind her of the people she once cared for. If she accepts him, let's him back into her heart, tis my belief that through our combined efforts, she may come round."

* * *

"Two years," she whispered, eyes locking on nothing at all, her mind's eye seeing a place from her nightmares. "Two years of nothing but dark, cold, pain, and hunger. Two years of _torture_ in that pit, my bleeding wrists _shackled_ to the wall like some… some… _beast_."

"You are no beast," said Alvarr firmly, reaching out to grasp Morgana's clammy hands in his. Her wide eyes, still frightened from the memories, turned to him. "'Twas the man who chained you that was a beast. In the end, he got what he deserved."

"No," Morgana snarled. "No, he was _lucky_ with what he got. He deserved much more, and I would have-"

"Hush, Morgana." Alvarr's thumbs drew soothing circles on the back of her hands. The witch's angry tremors lessened and she did in fact become quiet. "It's all over now. You're here. With me. Is that not worth a smile, at the very least?"

Morgana was amazed at the kindness in his eyes, no trace of fear in his expression. When was the last time someone had looked at her in such a way? She'd forgotten how nice it could feel…

"Just one. For me?" he continued teasingly, dark eyes twinkling.

Morgana smiled.

* * *

"Not possible," said Merlin, shaking his head stubbornly. "Morgana _isn't_ the same as she was before. That person died a long time ago. Morgana is _evil_. There's no way you can bring her back from that. You can't redeem her."

"I _know_ that there's still good in Morgana. I want only to help her, remind her of the importance of love. Why are you so eager to condemn her?" he demanded.

"Because I've seen firsthand the damage she's done!" the manservant shouted, painful memories leaping to mind. "I've seen the effects of her cruelty up close, experienced… _horrible_ things at her hand."

"But what if I _can_ save her?" Mordred pressed determinedly. "You once loved Morgana, didn't you? What if I _can_ bring that Morgana back? What if there's even the slightest chance? Shouldn't I try? Is it not my _duty_ to do so?"

"It's not possible."

"I won't give up on her."

"You're fighting a battle that _cannot_ be won!" yelled Merlin.

"I'm not going to stop fighting it," was the quiet answer. "Even if you do not think it possible, can you at least _accept_ what I've done with Morgana?"

The room vibrated with anxious silence as Mordred waited for Merlin's answer. The warlock stared at him stoically.

Then, his voice cracking slightly, Merlin numbly accused, "It's because of you that Elyan's dead." Mordred inhaled a painful breath.

"That is a burden I carry with me each day."

"How could you do it?" asked Merlin, his voice dropping into a strained whisper. Finally his cold and angry exterior gave way briefly to his pain at Mordred's betrayal. Mordred swallowed.

"I never meant for Elyan to die," the knight explained fervently. "I thought that… Arthur would be the one to face her sword."

"So you would have been fine with _Arthur_ dying?"

"No, of course not. As dearly as I loved Elyan, he was never the fighter that Arthur is. I have more faith in Arthur than that. I knew that he could best the sword and live. I didn't- I didn't realize that…"

Mordred stopped, choking on the words, too overcome to continue speaking. Thinking of Elyan was still unbearably heart-wrenching, and a part of Mordred wished he could simply hurl himself from the castle's high walls to spare himself the guilt, and the shame at Merlin's disgust with his actions.

"I understand."

Mordred jolted with shock, staring dumbstruck at the older man, wondering if he'd misheard. "What?"

"I've made mistakes in the past," Merlin answered, his words heavy with his own guilt and regret. He couldn't meet Mordred's eyes. "Mistakes with… severe consequences that I never could have predicted. They weigh on me as well."

"Then you understand?"

Now Merlin looked his way, and saw the hope in those crystal blue depths. He looked away again.

"I don't know…"

* * *

Alvarr smiled in return.

"I thought at first that you had lost the beauty that once entranced me," he said softly. Morgana gazed at him, mesmerized by the way his lips shaped each word like a caress. "I see now that I was wrong. It was only hiding, there, in that smile. You have never been more lovely." Morgana flushed, her pale cheeks brightening with color.

Suddenly it felt much too hot in the cottage, especially with their bodies so near to each other. How long had Alvarr's face been that close to her own? How had she failed to notice? It was so uncomfortably _hot_.

Morgana couldn't tear her eyes away from his, and her heart continued to pound, but now with a hint of fear. She was losing control, control of herself and the situation. It wasn't a feeling she liked. She could not afford to be weak or vulnerable. Morgana _had_ to stay in control.

"Shall we take a walk?" she asked hurriedly. Alvarr's eyes rose from her red lips to her blue eyes. "The night air is cool and refreshing."

The man nodded slowly, mouth quirking in a gentle smile.

"An excellent idea," he agreed. Standing up, Alvarr extended a hand to the young woman. Cautiously, she grasped it, allowing him to pull her lightly to her feet. Morgana withdrew her hand and walked swiftly past him, leading the way out. Alvarr grinned. He rather liked this side of Morgana, the side that was still young and innocent in the ways of love. In fact, he was finding that he liked the _whole_ of Morgana a great deal more than he'd expected to.

Those years back, when they met, he'd indeed considered her beautiful, and he'd admired her strength, but she was also naïve and soft. She had been a pawn whom he had happened to respect and physically admire.

But now… it felt different. He found this dangerous, but hurting, and powerful, but hardened, Morgana to be thrilling and enticing in ways that the younger version hadn't been.

As Alvarr followed Morgana out of the hut, simultaneously realizing the sincere intensity of his feelings, he decided he would not be content until Morgana admitted that she felt the same for him.

* * *

"There's no need to hide yourself from me, Merlin," Mordred said. "I know that there is yet a part of you that cares for Morgana. I know that you blame yourself for what has happened to her, but you mustn't."

When Merlin turned his head towards the younger man, his eyes were misty and he looked… fragile. "But it _is _my _fault_," he whispered heavily, finally laying bare the true torment on his soul.

"No," was the firm reply. "If you are to lay blame on any, lay it on Uther. He who should have loved her as a father, but instead made her feel like a monster while he destroyed the lives of the only ones she could have learned to trust."

"But if I'd been honest with her, if I'd-"

"Stop. You must let it go. But you see, what I have said is true." Mordred leaned closer to Merlin. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and placed it on Merlin's arm. "You care about her, even now."

"Feeling guilt is different than caring for someone," Merlin disputed stubbornly, but he didn't move away. He wished it were not so, but the warm hand gently touching him was comforting. Mordred's physical presence soothed him.

"Still," the druid man continued. "You may think it a lost cause, but I know that you understand why I tread this path regardless of how hopeless it may seem."

* * *

Alvarr and Morgana brushed through the trees together, their feet rustling the scattered leaves on the forest floor.

"The sky is beautiful at night," Alvarr commented, eyes turned heavenward. Morgana glanced up briefly.

"It's black," she said, clearly unimpressed. Alvarr chuckled.

"No, Morgana," he disagreed. "You must look harder." He came to a halt, pressing gently against Morgana's shoulder so that she too would stop. His hand lingered there, and this time, Morgana didn't try to evade his touch. With his other hand he pointed up towards the dark blanket stretching on forever above them.

"See first that the sky is _not_ black as you thought, but a dark, rich blue," said Alvarr. Morgana followed his gaze up.

"I see no hues of blue."

"Then you are not _looking_, for I can see it clearly," he answered. Running his hand down from her shoulder, he grasped her arm, holding it up.

"What are you _doing_?" Morgana snapped, arm extended. But still she didn't pull away. Perhaps she was too curious. Or perhaps she was too distracted by the trail of tingles that his touch had left behind on her limb.

"This, my lady, is black," he answered, brushing his fingers against the material of her dress. "And though black _can_ be beautiful…" The sorcerer paused, looking towards Morgana's hair and running a hand tenderly through it. "…it cannot compare to the beauty of a deep blue…" He looked now directly into her eyes. "…a blue in which you feel you can simply drown yourself, a blue that makes all other colors dim in comparison."

Morgana found herself speechless, and her breaths were coming in shallow. Alvarr stared so deeply into her eyes, quiet for several long moments, and she could tell that even he, the man with such natural charisma, who was so practiced in the arts of flattery and flirting, was momentarily too overcome for words. There was a look in his eyes that she didn't know how to describe, but she knew that he was more vulnerable in that one moment than he'd ever been before in her presence. He looked almost near to tears, yet he did not look sad, and his eyes seemed to become lost in her own. His mouth was open slightly, and Morgana had an inkling that she knew what he wished to do with it.

Anxiety flooded through her, and she quickly turned away, turning her eyes up to the sky to break their connection. She heard Alvarr inhale an unsteady breath beside her, but she said nothing of it.

When the High Priestess gave herself a few seconds to absorb the picture above her, she exhaled a breath of amazement. Somehow, Alvarr had been right. She could now see that the sky wasn't black, but rather the dark blue that Alvarr had described it as.

"You… You were right," she admitted, her words short and sharp. "I see it."

"And there is something even more lovely about the sky. The moon and the stars."

Morgana's brow furrowed, but this time she tried to see things as he did rather than immediately dismiss his words. She could see the moon and stars well enough, but what made them "lovely" to him? They simply were _there_.

Alvarr shifted, and suddenly his body was pressed up against her back, his head just beside hers, so that his mouth was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear as he talked. His hands rested lightly on her waist. Morgana shivered.

"The moon hangs above the clouds, keeping watch over the earth and heavens," he said. "It's pale face glows with the age of more years than you or I can count. And the stars are its children. They shine down on us, gifting us with their light. Tiny pinpricks of fire to illuminate the way for we mortal creatures. They do not judge, or ask anything of us. They give freely of themselves to all who are willing to appreciate their beauty."

The words whispered in her ear caused a shiver to run down Morgana's spine, but her eyes remained fixed above. As he spoke, her perceptions changed, Alvarr's poetic thoughts spreading into her own, until she too could imagine the moon and stars as objects of beauty and grace.

"Might I share a secret with you, Morgana?"

Puzzled, Morgana turned to face him. Still they stood only inches apart.

"Of course. I have shared many with you in these past few days."

Alvarr smiled, brushing a hand through her hair, the other hand reaching out to hold her waist again.

"Your pale face is a thousand times more radiant than the moon's," he murmured, stroking her cheek lightly. "And your eyes shine with such light that the stars can only _dream_ of."

Alvarr leaned in, his face now dangerously close to Morgana's. She felt as though each and every part of her was frozen still, unable to move, except her heart, which raced furiously with reckless abandon.

"I have never seen anything, or anyone, more beautiful."

Time seemed to slow as Alvarr slowly closed the remaining distance between them. Finally, their lips met.

Heat rushed through Morgana as Alvarr's lips pressed sweetly against hers. Something exploded inside of her that she couldn't name, and most certainly couldn't control. Her emotions were a chaotic whirl, and she couldn't think, couldn't think at all. Nothing was making sense. She was lost. Lost in a sea of drowning colors and feelings.

Morgana relished the feeling. She felt so _alive_.

But it frightened her as well. She was unprepared for this, and she was scared, scared to have lost control.

Raging within her, the conflicting emotions battled even as Alvarr's lips moved against hers. His kiss was becoming less gentle, becoming more determined. It still felt so good, and Morgana _wanted_ it, but she _didn't_ want it, and she was scared, and-

Violently reacting to her inner tumult, Morgana's power erupted, lashing out uncontrollably, no longer reined in by the sorceress. Alvarr went flying backwards, away from Morgana, releasing a loud cry as he soared through the air.

Frightened and exhausted, Morgana fainted before seeing Alvarr land.

The color surrounding her was black.

* * *

"I don't know what to think," said Merlin shakily, now stepping away from Mordred's touch, though not before Mordred felt his body trembling. "I just… I can't think straight. I don't know what to believe."

"Please, Merlin," the knight pleaded. "In your heart, you know that all I have said is true. You _must_ believe me."

"I want to. Or… a part of me does," Merlin amended. "I… I don't know anymore. I know I should hate you, that it would be foolish to ever trust you again-"

"_No_!" insisted Mordred fiercely, his eyes begging for forgiveness. "Not foolish. I deserve that trust, I swear to you-"

"But when you speak, everything just seems to make sense, and I feel lost, I can't think-"

"There's no need to feel lost, I can-"

"Mordred…" The young man fell quiet. "If this is all true… why didn't you tell me at the start? How…" His earlier anger and passion began to replace Merlin's current confusion. "How can I believe you when you're only telling me now? _How could you not tell me_?"

"I'm sorry, truly I am," answered Mordred. "I didn't wish to hide this from you, but… it was dangerous. The more people know of a plan, the greater risk there is."

"And you expect me to just accept that?"

"No. But I'm _asking_ you to."

Merlin stared Mordred down, but Mordred met his gaze with equal strength behind it.

"That's not enough," the warlock said.

"Merlin-"

"I'm not saying that I believe you're lying," Merlin interrupted. "I'm just saying… I don't know if I believe you're telling the truth. Maybe you're pulling the wool over my eyes somehow. Maybe there's something I don't know about how the crystal works."

"There isn't, I-"

"I can't take that chance. I can never trust you again, I can never… put my faith in you again, Mordred. It's too late for that now."

The druid felt as though a spear had been driven through his gut. He protested, "It's _never_ too late-"

"I'm telling you that it _is_," said Merlin. His jaw was clenched, his tone firm and authoritative. "Just like it's too late to save Morgana. If that's even what you're doing. It doesn't matter. Just listen to me, Mordred." Mordred obliged, despite the unhappy twisting in his stomach. "I've got my eyes on you. I'll be watching your every step, and if I ever find any reason to doubt even a shred of your loyalty, you will learn the true power of Emrys."

Mordred was soon alone in his rooms once more.

* * *

Morgana blinked herself into consciousness. She was immediately aware of a _horrible_ headache. She hissed, placing a hand to her forehead. It felt as if she'd been slammed into by a battering ram and taken a direct blow to the head from it. The rest of her body ached as well, but that was nothing compared to other pain she'd dealt with in her time.

Suddenly, Morgana remembered. She remembered what Alvarr had done, and how their kiss had been cut short by her magic releasing itself in an explosive force.

She sat bolt upright, hoping, praying to the gods that Alvarr was all right. She hadn't meant to do it, and now she wished she hadn't. Her lips tingled with the memory of his, and she knew, she knew just from the way her heart was already beating faster at the mere thought of him, of his words, his eyes, his smile, his touch, that she cared for him.

That she wanted to experience his kiss again.

A huge grin spread across her cheeks at this realization. She felt lighter and freer than she had in ages. She felt happy and… hopeful, for things to come. The idea of Arthur dying always gave her _pleasure_, but it was nothing compared to this.

Morgana hurriedly got to her feet, turning about to find Alvarr so that she could finally be honest about her feelings.

Until her heart stopped, when she saw him lying on the ground, his hair matted with blood that was also smeared on the tree behind him, where he had clearly struck his head.

"_No_," she growled, her teeth grinding together and her voice dangerously low. She rushed to his side, falling to her knees as her wide eyes took in the sight.

He didn't look good. His skin was much paler than it normally was, and there was blood covering his scalp, with one line of red trailing down the right side of his face. She felt for a pulse, and was relieved to find it, though it was weak.

"Alvarr," she said, her fingers stroking his cheek. "Wake up." No response. "Alvarr. _Alvarr_."

Weak eyes fluttered open. It took them a second to find their way towards Morgana. When they did, the sorceress had to force in calming breaths before she broke into tears. No good would come of crying, so she simply wouldn't.

"Morgana…" whispered Alvarr, clearly disappointed and hurt. "Why?"

Morgana shook her head, tears leaping into being without her permission. "I didn't mean to, I… It was an accident, I swear it, you _must_ believe me. _Please_. I'll… Don't worry; I'll take care of you. You _will_ get better," she promised vehemently. At the force of the witch's declarations, Alvarr's gaze softened. He could tell that she meant what she said. She truly hadn't meant to hurt him.

But he also knew that it was too late. He was already fading. Hanging on to the material world was painful, and he could feel the eternal dark hovering just out of his vision, waiting.

"No, Morgana," he answered, each word heavy in his mouth. Morgana's blue eyes glittered with tears. Her jaw began to tremble as droplets of water tumbled down her cheeks. "I'm gone."

"_No_," she refused, shaking her head stubbornly. "You can't leave me, I won't let you."

"Do not blame yourself. I… _I _am to blame. It was… my fault…"

Morgana became choked by her tears and could speak no longer. Quivering hands brushed the blood-soaked hair back from his forehead. Alvarr's eyes were fluttering again, but this time they were trying to close. Permanently.

"Please, _please_," she begged, the plea forcing its way through her heaving sobs.

"I… hope that…" the dying man struggled, "you may yet… find…" But Morgana was never to know what Alvarr wished for her to find. The fight leaving his body in a sigh, his eyelids drifted closed, and his heart beat no more.

Scared and anguished, Morgana's head snapped side to side, looking for the help that wouldn't come. Tears still falling thick, Morgana struggled to calm herself, but to no avail. She rocked back and forth on the dirty ground, white hands red with blood. Her chest was constricted tightly and it was hard to breathe, but she forced the air into her lungs. A keening moan was all the sound she made, her heartache too great to be silent, and yet too great to be loud.

Morgana had no idea how long she stayed there, rocking gently over a dead man's body.


	21. Alone

_Author's Note: Spoilers up through S5E8 and... vague spoilers for S5E9 I suppose? Anyways, a great many thanks to all those who review. You guys are really what keep me going. And welcome aboard to those who started reading this story recently :) We're glad to have you with us. Enjoy!_

* * *

Morgana was numb, and cold. At some point, she didn't know when, the sun had come up, bringing with it a new day. The rays of light did nothing to alleviate the chill in her bones.

When her mind became functional again, she slowly stood. Her body ached as she did so, the strain of having maintained the same position all through the night finally affecting her. She did not so much as wince. It was as if she had completely shut down, her external expressions of emotion and feeling having dried up like water in the desert.

Internally, Morgana began to wake up. Her brain caught up to the reality of the situation, the permanence of what had happened. And what did that mean for her now?

Once her mind was fully engaged, it was as if all the thoughts she'd locked away for countless hours came flooding in, each trying to be heard by shouting the loudest, giving her a ringing headache.

Among her rampant thoughts were these: It was my fault… Everyone around me gets hurt… I get hurt when I care… It was _his _fault… In the end, it was truly Mordred's fault… I'm lying… It is best not to care for others, else _this_ happens… Death—like a plague, it follows me… They get hurt, as do I… What have I been doing?... So much pain… Distracted, for days, failing to do my duty, to work towards Arthur's ruin… Mustn't fail again… Cannot care for others if I am to get the throne… To kill Arthur… Love is a weakness… To restore magic… Love only makes us weak… There can be no more of that… What to do with Mordred?... I still care for Mordred… The sky is black, it was _always _black… Cannot care for the boy, just some boy… There are no colors to see… Be strong, show strength, pretend, pretend, pretend…

Morgana's head ached mercilessly, but she reached a conclusion. She knew what must be done in order to survive and succeed.

* * *

Mordred was growing mildly anxious. He had received no word from Alvarr or Morgana in three days now. Worried, he sent post to his friend. He was utterly bewildered when the raven came back, the same note still tied to its leg.

What did this mean?

Sparing no more time, Mordred wrapped himself in a cloak and snuck out of the citadel, following the same path as always. His heart seemed to beat a mite faster with each step across the stones of the town and leaves of the forest. He was quickly working himself up. No longer was he mildly anxious, now he was desperately frightened.

_I'm sure all is well_, he calmed himself. _The raven lost its way. Or else, they simply do not want to be bothered. That could be a _good_ sign. They must truly be enjoying each other's company._

He didn't believe it.

Finally he reached Morgana's cottage. Inhaling deeply, Mordred knocked upon the wooden door.

"Come in," called a familiar young woman's voice.

When Mordred pushed through the entryway, he turned to find Morgana seated on her bed, sharpening one of her knives. Alvarr was nowhere to be seen. Mordred's fears multiplied exponentially. A languid smile played along Morgana's lips. It was a smile he was well used to, and it did not set him at ease.

"Morgana, where is Alvarr?" he asked. Smile not budging, Morgana raised her eyebrows.

"I'm afraid Alvarr is no longer with us," she replied. Now she smirked, turning her eyes back to her knife. Mordred's brow furrowed.

"He left?" said the druid, confused, and not a bit hurt. "Why would he go? Why would he not tell me?"

She let out an arrogant laugh. "Sometimes I forget that you are still a child."

"I am _not_ a _child_."

"No? Allow me to shatter your illusions. Alvarr went nowhere. Not of his own accord, at least. You could say that he's traveled… to a different world entirely."

This time, the intended meaning struck Mordred full force. He struggled to breathe. No matter what had happened, it was his fault. _He_ was the one who asked Alvarr to come. It was all his fault. More blood on his hands. Dripping red blood…

"Why?" he asked, the one word barely able to force its way from his throat.

"Because you are _naïve_, Mordred," Morgana snapped suddenly. She lay down her knife and rose to her feet. Though all he wanted to do was cry, Mordred put on the protective facial mask he'd perfected over the years: cold, hard, dangerous even. "Did you truly think that one charming man could destroy all my years of hard work?"

"I thought of it not as destruction but restoration," he retorted.

"You are a child. You are foolish and naïve, and because of that, others have suffered."

"It is because of your cruelty and conceit that Alvarr is dead. Tis through no fault of mine."

She laughed. "Believe whatever you wish, but the facts remain. A fellow sorcerer is dead because you persuaded him to help in your ill-formed plans."

"No."

"You are no innocent. Don't pretend to be one, Mordred; it suits you ill. At heart, I know you are the same as I."

"I believed so," answered Mordred sadly, "but I see how mistaken I was. I am _nothing_ like you, Morgana."

"You may think that now, but I know what lies beneath," she said harshly. "If someone should ever come between you and all you fight for, as Alvarr got in _my_ way, I know what you would do."

Mordred could feel his heart blacken and shrivel, wilting away and leaving the ash remains in his stomach, making him feel the need to vomit. Because Morgana was right. Isn't that just what Mordred had done in the past, when people—knights, bandits—had gotten in his way? Hadn't Mordred freely admitted to Merlin that he would do _just that_ to Arthur? Mordred loved Arthur, loved him as a King, as a commander, and as a friend. And yet, should the day come when it became clear that Arthur would always stand in the way of the return of magic to the kingdom, Mordred planned to dispatch of him, for the sake of his goals. The same way that Morgana had killed Alvarr for the sake of _her_ goals.

Could he truly be no better than Morgana? Is this what he was? A monster?

No. _No more_, he decided. His mind was firmly set now. Morgana had murdered his friend, a good man, a fellow sorcerer, and now even had the gall to smile about it. There was clearly no hope left for her.

Arthur, however… There was still hope for Arthur. He could change. He _would_ change. Mordred had to believe that. And until Arthur did, no matter what, no matter how long it took, Mordred could no longer plan to sacrifice him. He would _not_ become Morgana, willing to murder someone he loved in that way. From now on, he would be a devoted knight of Camelot. He would protect Arthur with his life and never injure the king in any way. Better to give up one's dreams, to give up power, than to give up love.

"I pity you, Morgana," he whispered. A crack appeared in Morgana's shell, and she appeared vulnerable, her eyes threatening to water.

"Get out."

Mordred only stared at her. Her look became wild.

"I am giving the chance to go," she seethed. "I suggest you take it if you value your life."

"Where did you set stones to mark his passing?" asked Mordred quietly. "So I might pay my respects."

"He deserved no such commemoration, and thus _received_ none."

Mordred's jaw clenched with anger, but, saying nothing more, unwilling to risk pushing the witch any further, he spun away, his cloak flapping up behind him as he made his way swiftly from the hut. As he set a rushed course back for the castle, he did not, of course, notice what lay _behind_ Morgana's cottage: a small pyramid of stones to mark the grave of a recently deceased sorcerer.

* * *

Merlin had successfully avoided all interaction with Mordred for several days. But today something was different. Mordred didn't seem to be acting oddly—he still smiled and laughed with the knights and performed well on the field—but it wasn't right. Merlin couldn't put his finger on it. Just as with the Queen, he simply knew. It was a feeling in his gut.

Something was wrong.

Merlin told himself it was only sensible to find out the cause. It could be important. And if Mordred truly hoped to earn Merlin's trust, surely he would have no excuse not to reveal the truth of the matter to Merlin. Merlin need only ask.

It was just a bonus that seeing Mordred would lighten his spirit.

Merlin finished washing Arthur's clothes with extra haste, so that he was able to wait in Mordred's chambers until the knight returned from training.

* * *

Mordred stepped into his room after a tiring training session. He was grateful that Arthur had worked them so hard today; it had given his mind an avenue of escape from morbid thoughts of Alvarr, at least for a time. The combination of bone-wearying exercise and the camaraderie of the other knights had been enough to help set his mind at ease. But now he was alone again.

Or perhaps, not quite as alone as he'd thought.

Mordred showed no hesitation as he closed the door behind himself and approached his visitor, though on the inside his heart thrummed frantically. What did Merlin want? What was this meeting to be about?

"What's happened?" asked Merlin. Mordred didn't even bother asking how Merlin knew that something had happened. But still he was confused. Didn't Merlin want nothing to do with Mordred?

"I thought-"

"Here's your chance to start earning my trust again."

Mordred nodded. His mouth opened, but he only succeeded in taking a shaky breath. Again, his jaw dropped open then closed again, unable to form the shape of the words. They were too heavy for him to utter. Some things simply weren't meant to be said aloud. So he decided on a different approach. Closing his eyes, for otherwise he couldn't bear it, he spoke directly into Merlin's mind.

_She killed him._

"_Alvarr_?"

"He came for my sake, because I asked him to…" the druid whispered, eyes fluttering open again. "It's my fault, I alone am responsible for his death…"

"You should not have brought Alvarr back into Camelot," was Merlin's cold rebuke. Mordred's teeth clenched, and he finally brought his eyes up to meet Merlin's.

"I did it to remind Morgana of someone she once loved!" he snapped. "I thought it was her best chance! I know of no one else she cared for more deeply in that way. Do _you_?"

Merlin stilled at those words, the sarcastic question dragging up memories from long ago, forcing him to examine thoughts that he never would have considered intentionally. But for some reason, these thoughts were his immediate reaction to Mordred's insincere inquiry.

He thought he could remember, in a few glances, a few words, feeling that… wondering if…

But that was insane. Merlin had probably been mistaken, just imagining things. The Lady Morgana had probably never felt anything at all for him. He'd probably only been imagining that connection, that spark, between them.

Well, it didn't matter now anyways, so what was the use in thinking about it? Whatever Morgana may or may not have felt at one point was long gone, replaced with pure hatred for Merlin. Suddenly, this knowledge made Merlin sadder than he could ever remember it making him before.

"No," he replied softly. "No, of course not."

Mordred noticed the abrupt change. His eyes searched Merlin momentarily. He was no fool. He could tell that Merlin was hiding something. But he could also guess what it was, and he chose not to ask.

"I had hoped that his presence would… rekindle that fire in her heart," Mordred continued. "That he would bring forth the remains of the woman she was when first she knew him. How could I have misjudged her so entirely? I thought…" Once more, Mordred was too choked to speak. Silently, he uttered a strained whisper. _I believed in her._

Merlin filled with pity. Mordred's youth was shining through, as it sometimes did. It reminded Merlin of how young Mordred truly was. Oftentimes, the warlock completely forgot that fact. Mordred had been forced to grow up much too quickly, and while it had turned him into an extraordinary man, that didn't mean he deserved all the burdens he bore at this tender age. Especially not this burden.

Until this moment, Merlin hadn't been aware that there was a part of himself that had been inspired by Mordred's firm belief in the witch, that had dared to trust in Mordred's opinion, because Merlin too wanted to believe it with all his heart. But now, here was the solid proof that Merlin had been right all along.

The triumph made him impressively unhappy.

"I'm sorry. Honestly."

Mordred sneered. "No, this is _exactly _what you wanted," he replied angrily. "Now you get the pleasure of knowing that you were _right_. That's what matters after all, isn't-"

"Do you truly think that of me?" interrupted Merlin forcefully. "Mordred, I… I didn't _want_ to be right. Not this way."

Mordred's fiery gaze faltered. He looked down in shame. He was being unfair; he knew that. He was letting his emotions get the better of him.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry, Merlin, I'm sorry, I just-"

"I know," the manservant cut him off kindly. "Mordred, you can't blame yourself."

"I asked him to come-"

"It was his choice. Alvarr _chose_ to risk his life to save Morgana, just as you did. That doesn't make it your fault. His blood is on Morgana's hands."

At this, Mordred's head snapped up in hopeful disbelief. A moment passed by as he tried to rein in his emotional response to Merlin's words.

"Does this mean that you believe me?" he asked carefully.

"For the sake of this conversation… yes," answered Merlin. "But that doesn't mean I _trust_ you." Merlin fixed him with a steely and unforgiving look. There was no room for doubt or negotiation over it.

"No…" murmured Mordred, trying not to let his deflated hopes infect his words with a defeated tone. "No, of course it doesn't."

Silence fell again. Neither man had anything left to say. Merlin had done what he'd come to do. He'd discovered the cause of Mordred's discontent, and he'd even done what he could to offer some small measure of comfort to the young knight. Feeling his mission complete, Merlin turned towards the doorway and began to walk away.

"Merlin." He halted, looking back over his shoulder. The wounded desperation in Mordred's expression was almost too much for him to bear. "Will you… stay here tonight? Please, I… I need you."

Mordred's jaw quivered. Making this request was extremely difficult, painful even. Exposing this vulnerability hurt, sacrificing his pride and self-control for the sake of what he knew he needed more than anything. It took guts to push the words from his mouth. He watched Merlin, eyes starting to glisten, waiting, _praying_, for Merlin to say _Yes_. Merlin stood absolutely still for many long seconds. Then,

"No." Mordred's heart shattered in icy fragments. Merlin didn't flinch. "I'm sorry about Alvarr, but there is nothing I can do for you. Alvarr's death may not be on your shoulders, but it was your choice to be in league with Morgana. You chose the path that led to this pain. And you can suffer it alone." With those words, Merlin left.

Mordred slumped to the floor, his body giving out on him, and broke down into silent, aching tears. He spent the night curled up on the cold stone floor. No sleep came to relieve him of his excruciating pain.

* * *

The next day found Mordred at training yet again. Mordred fell to his knees. Sweat was pouring down his face and soaking his inner layer of clothes. A sword was held to his throat.

The bout had been a long and remarkably decent one. Mordred was a bit out of sorts due to his exhaustion and sore bones, but his anger, feelings of betrayal, and emotional agony gave him the drive to fight in better fashion than he usually did.

Gwaine wiped the sweat off his own brow, grinning at his sparring partner. Reaching down a hand, he hauled Mordred to his feet.

"I do believe that's the closest you've ever come to beating me, youngling," Gwaine complimented as they walked off the field together, allowing others to take their place. Mordred smiled modestly.

"I have a long way to go yet."

"Hey." Gwaine stopped Mordred with a gentle hand on his arm. The big smile was gone, replaced with genuine concern. "Doing all right there, Mordred?" He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but something about the young knight felt off today. If anything, Mordred seemed as though he'd reverted to the introverted, sweet mask he'd worn in the beginning of his time as a knight. It was like he was hiding again.

Mordred turned to his well-meaning friend, flashing Gwaine a winning smile.

"Yes, just fine. I had a bit of a restless night I'm afraid. I apologize if I seem distracted."

"Not at all! No need for any of that," Gwaine assured him, clapping him on the shoulder. "However, I've got this _brilliant_ idea. I wondered if you might like to hear it."

Mordred's eyebrows rose. "Sounds ominous." Gwaine laughed exuberantly.

"I assure you, it's not so bad as it sounds. I just feel like having a bit of fun…"

* * *

If nothing else, Merlin's discussion with Mordred had finally convinced the king's manservant that no more time could be wasted with Arthur in complete ignorance of Guinevere's current loyalties. The conversation was one that Merlin was dreading, but he knew he could wait no longer. If Morgana had just murdered Alvarr, it seemed likely that she would move against Arthur again very soon.

Therefore, Merlin spent the day after his talk with Mordred lingering as much as possible in Arthur's chambers. For a good portion of the day, Gwen was also present, so Merlin busied himself with menial chores, such as fixing the bed sheets, and dusting the tables and wardrobes. Eventually, Merlin found himself repeating chores he'd already completed. He was loathe to miss the opportunity to speak with Arthur alone, so he wouldn't leave the room if at all possible, but there simply wasn't enough to do. Unfortunately, Arthur noticed.

"Merlin…" he said aloud, a gentle smile on his face, the one he used when he felt Merlin was being particularly stupid. Merlin straightened up from fluffing the pillows, grinning accommodatingly.

"Yes, sire?"

"You already did that," replied Arthur, speaking as if to a child. Merlin's head tilted thoughtfully. He looked between the king and the pillows for a few seconds.

"Really?" he said finally. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I don't know, they don't really _look_ fluffed," protested Merlin.

"That's because _you_ fluffed them, Merlin."

The manservant looked offended. "Are you suggesting that my work is less than satisfactory?"

"_Yes_," replied Arthur matter-of-factly, still smiling. "That happens to be _exactly_ what I'm suggesting."

Merlin beamed. "Well then, obviously it's for the best that I do the job twice!" he exclaimed triumphantly, returning to his work with the pillows. "We can't have the King and Queen sleeping on pillows that are any less than perfect."

"Since when are you so interested in my pillows?" Arthur cried bemusedly.

"Well just _think_ about it. If you don't get a good night's sleep, the result could be dreadful."

"Oh, could it?"

"You might go around executing people because a crick in your neck is making you cranky, who knows?"

"_Mer_lin-"

Gwen, who had been observing the entire exchange from where she sat reading at the table, released a bright laugh. Arthur and Merlin turned to her. Arthur's countenance softened as he did so; Merlin's did just the opposite. Smiling amusedly, Gwen rose and loped over to her husband.

"You pick the strangest things to fuss about, Arthur," she said fondly. "I feel if I were you, I would rather complain that Merlin has now made the bed twice and has yet to do any of the washing." Seeming to realize this now for the first time, Arthur turned an accusatory glance towards a sheepish Merlin, opening his mouth. But Gwen continued first. "Oh, do let him be. I'm sure Merlin deserves a break." She turned to smile at the servant. Merlin forced himself to smile back convincingly.

"Thank you, milady."

"For now, I'm going to go for a walk in the town." Arthur nodded his acceptance as she kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be back soon." She made her way towards the door and left.

Merlin felt like dancing with relief. _Finally_ she was gone. He waited a few more minutes to be sure, but finally he approached Arthur, all mirth gone from his expression.

"My lord, there is a matter of grave importance I would discuss with you."

Surprised at the seriousness in Merlin's look, Arthur put down his quill and focused his, now concerned, attentions fully on his friend. "What is it, Merlin?"

"It's about what Gwen told you before," Merlin decided to lead with. "About me seeing a girl the day you were settling negotiations with the Sarrum."

At this, Arthur began to look a bit confused, but still, a grin broke out on his cheeks. "Yes, I was rather _surprised_ by that!" he admitted. "I thought you had feelings for a _man_. Someone new in your life? Or were you just too shy to tell Guinevere the whole truth?"

"You were right to be surprised. Because it wasn't true."

"You lied about where you were gone to?" was the confused response.

"No, that's just it, you're missing the point," Merlin replied quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"Arthur…" The warlock paused, gathering his self-control and courage. "I need you to listen to me. Don't let your emotions control your thoughts. Just hear me out, and you'll know that I'm being honest. You trust me, don't you?"

Arthur was puzzled. "Of course."

"Even with your life," pressed Merlin. "You _proved_ that, you _knew_ it wasn't me who poisoned you."

"Yes, obviously, but what's your _point_, Merlin?" asked the king impatiently.

"Then you trust me enough to know I'm being serious about this," Merlin concluded. "Arthur… the one who poisoned you was the Queen."

Arthur's response was immediate. "That's _ridiculous_-"

"Just _listen_." Arthur's mouth snapped shut. It was clear that Merlin was being perfectly serious. Arthur didn't know what to think. In fact, he wasn't really thinking anything coherent at _all_. He just felt sick. He didn't understand what was going on. "Gwen isn't herself. She hasn't been ever since Morgana kidnapped her."

"What are you saying?" The words were hard and not a bit threatening.

Merlin sighed. "I know this is hard to hear. But it's not as if Gwen is betraying you. None of this is her fault. It's all Morgana. Morgana bewitched the Queen, so now… it's not even Gwen anymore." Seeing Arthur's stern expression, Merlin continued on more passionately, saying, "_She's_ the one who set up Tyr Seward, who poisoned you. And she lied about my whereabouts because she knew the truth. Look, Arthur, I'm taking a huge risk just in telling you this. But I'm trusting you to trust me."

_She lied… because she knew the truth… _Suddenly Arthur realized what Merlin had been trying to say earlier. Merlin hadn't been visiting a sweetheart after all. It had been a lie. Then… where _had_ he been? Something in his gut told him it was something bad, something very bad indeed. His heart ached that he hadn't instinctively known before now. How could he be so _blind_, even in matters concerning his best friend?

"What happened to you, Merlin?" he asked softly. Merlin swallowed.

"Morgana kidnapped me," he explained. "She poisoned me, tried to kill me."

Arthur stopped, his eyes flying wide open. "You were kidnapped by Morgana?"

"Yes."

Arthur took a moment to mull this over. Then, his gaze turning suspicious, he questioned, "Then how am I to know that it isn't _you_ who's been bewitched?"

"Just think about it. Guinevere was the one who convinced you _not_ to talk to Tyr Seward that night, do you remember?" Arthur's eyes flicked away, recalling the event painfully. "And then she accused _me_ of _poisoning _you? The real Gwen would never have done that. You know in your heart that it's true. She hasn't been quite herself since she returned from the Dark Tower."

"Her brother died!" The protest was forceful, but too forceful. Merlin had planted a reasonable seed of doubt. There was hope. Merlin breathed in.

"It's more than that. Please, Arthur."

"If Morgana tried to kill you, how are you still alive?" pointed out Arthur harshly.

"The boy who saved your life that day-"

Arthur interrupted in shock. "The young boy who thwarted the Sarrum's assassination attempt?" Merlin nodded.

"He saved my life as well." Arthur sat back heavily in his chair, eyes glazing over thoughtfully as Merlin continued. "He knew of Morgana's plans. He saved my life and then returned to Camelot to save yours."

"It's hard to believe…" the king murmured.

"I know." Merlin's stomach twisted with intense guilt at the lie he was about to say to his friend, but he said it still. "But you know I would never lie to you."

"I need proof, Merlin," Arthur told him firmly. But it was enough just that Arthur trusted Merlin enough to consider his words seriously, and was willing to look further into them. Merlin's heart lifted. "I can't accept this, not without solid evidence." Merlin nodded understandingly.

"Luckily, I know just where we can get some."

* * *

"Gwaine, pass me a towel."

Smirking, Gwaine winked surreptitiously at Mordred, who stood just beside him and was eager—though feeling slightly guilty—to watch what happened.

"Of course, Percival," replied Gwaine graciously. Holding the rag delicately in his hand, Gwaine trudged over to his friend, placing the rag just as gently in Percival's hand, so as not to shake it too much. If Percival noticed Gwaine's trickery too soon, the prank would be an utter failure.

Luckily, Percival didn't think twice before bringing the towel up to his face. The impact of his large hand smacking the towel into his face was strong enough that the desired effect was achieved.

An eruption of flour coated his face with white, and left a cloud of white falling about him. Percival stopped dead, eyes closed. Gwaine howled with laughter, and Mordred chuckled sheepishly beside him, unable to restrain his bright smile.

"Serves you right for never getting your own towel!" Gwaine exclaimed, still chortling. His movements slow, Percival lowered his hand, and opened his eyes. Mordred watched to see his reaction.

Sighing, Percival gave a resigned smile. "Very nice," he announced good-naturedly, rolling his eyes at Gwaine's childish antics. He wiped off the flour with his clean hand. Gwaine's grin stretched even further. "You caught me unawares, I admit. But you had better watch your back, Gwaine. I'll return the favor someday." Mordred grinned with amusement, until Percival turned to point at him as well. "You too, Mordred. Don't think I didn't notice _your_ part in this."

Mordred feigned wounded shock. "Me? What part could _I_ have played in this trick?"

"Co-conspirator," answered Percival. Gwaine laughed brightly again, enjoying Mordred's horrified expression at being placed in the same mischievous group as Gwaine. "Or at the very least, you knew of Gwaine's plans and said nothing. Believe me, you shall share in his punishment." The words were so ominous, yet said with such an innocent smile, that Gwaine and Mordred could both do no more than gape in shock.

Percival's lip twitched.

All three men burst out into laughter, falling over each other in their excessive mirth. They laughed until their sides ached, especially after Gwaine licked a finger and wiped some of the remaining flour off of Percival's face, and quickly found himself in a (friendly) headlock.

The friends hadn't had such an enjoyable day in quite some time. Given the current circumstances, Mordred was both stunned beyond belief and incredibly grateful for this. This was just what he'd needed. Sometimes he forgot what it was to have fun.

And thus, the days of the Prank War began.

* * *

The days spent waiting, keeping watch on Guinevere for any suspicious outings, were among the more tense of Merlin's life. He felt constantly on edge. He was easy to snap, and had to apologize more than once to Gaius for having an unpleasant attitude. Merlin was grateful that his adoptive father understood the reason for Merlin's anxiety and so was very willing to forgive.

Arthur was faring no better than Merlin. That was the other issue grating on the manservant's nerves. Because Arthur still had no definite proof and was therefore reluctant to make any judgment, he had withdrawn from Merlin, acting much more aloof than usual, as if to protect himself from being forced to think about it.

So it was that Merlin was in a rotten foul mood when he discovered a lather of butter coating Arthur's armor. The prank was clearly meant for Merlin, as it was Merlin's job to make sure all of Arthur's things were set and ready to go for the king by the time training began.

Now, Merlin had been aware that there was a pranking war going on. Leon had pushed through a doorway and been drenched in water from a bucket above. Mordred and Percival woke one morning to discover that their clothes had been switched. Gwaine found that the wine in his goblet at dinner had been seasoned with spices. And the list continued. But as of yet, the pranks had not ventured outside this group of four.

And yet here Merlin was, stuck with slimy armor needing to be cleaned.

Merlin grit his teeth, ready to explode at his friends. All four of the knights involved were gathered about, laughing uproariously. Merlin was _not_ in the mood for this. It made him angry that they'd added unnecessarily to his list of chores.

Merlin glanced quickly at the knights around him. It was immediately clear that Gwaine, standing closest to Merlin, his hands slimy, was the one responsible. The others were just enjoying it. Mordred was grinning, laughing with the other three. But when Merlin, about to snap, met his eyes, there was an intensity there, matched by the intensity of the message delivered telepathically: _Go with it!_

Merlin stopped, utterly taken aback. Yet, for some reason, he instinctively listened to the voice. Though he felt no sense of happiness or amusement, he grudgingly forced a smile onto his lips. There. That… actually felt better. The smile became more earnest. A chuckle bubbled up in his chest, turning into a full laugh. His spirits began to lift, rising each second as his gay laughter continued on. The situation really was rather funny, now that he stopped to think about it. How ridiculous.

Fixing Gwaine with a lightheartedly threatening stare, Merlin shook his head. "Big mistake, Gwaine. Never play pranks on the servant."

"Is that so?"

"You should be very, very afraid."

Smirking with disbelief, Gwaine teased, "What reason would a knight have to be afraid of a servant?"

"Because we've got access to _everything_," replied Merlin, smiling devilishly. Gwaine's smirk died, and his face paled. "We wash your clothes, make your food, change your bed sheets. There's nothing you have that I can't get my hands on. Try not to think about _that_ when you go to bed tonight."

The other knights burst into peals of appreciative laughter. Gwaine glared at his friends, but they simply kept laughing as Merlin winked sassily and turned to leave.

As he was almost out the door, Merlin caught Mordred's eye again. They were happy for Merlin, and proud.

Merlin smiled. Then he was gone.


	22. Joy in a Time of Sorrow

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's still sticking around for this story! Many thanks to everyone who takes the time to review, especially to my guest reviewers from the last chapter: Fantasma, mary, Guest, and NadineGuest. I truly appreciate your kind words. Here, I give you all a virtual cookie! *hands cookie* WARNING: Spoilers for S5E9. Please remember to review, everybody! Reviews are the currency of the fanfiction world, and all it costs you is a few moments of your time._

* * *

The first day, Gwaine woke to find that all of his white shirts had been _graciously_ washed for him, leaving him with no choice—once he'd realized, after several desperate requests, that none of his friends would help him—but to wear a shirt dyed a splendid pink color. He even tried sending a servant to wash one of the shirts clean, but the servant returned shamefully, saying that the color wouldn't come out.

As ringing laughter followed him around the castle, Gwaine became terrified that he would have to wear only pink shirts until he could afford to purchase a new set of white ones. When Merlin saw him that day, the servant laughed brightly. Gwaine had glared at him as threateningly as a knight wearing a pink shirt could possibly glare. Merlin only laughed harder.

The second day, Gwaine was relieved to find that the color had been washed out of each one. (Almost everyone complimented Merlin on his obvious skill with chemicals or herbs or whatever he'd used to reverse the change. _Gaius_ whacked him upside the head for using magic irresponsibly.)

Mistakenly believing himself now in the clear, Gwaine made his way to training that second day. Getting dressed, Gwaine plopped down on a bench to complete the process by donning his boots. But picking up the first, he noticed that it felt heavier than it should have. Confused, he brought it up to his face, trying to peer inside. He could see nothing. He began to reach a hand towards the boot lip.

A frog leapt out from the boot, directly at Gwaine's face. The knight gave a loud cry of surprised fright. He was _so_ surprised that his body instinctively lurched backward from the creature launching itself at his face, which resulted in Gwaine tumbling off the bench and crashing into a stationary suit of armor. The other knights broke into merriment as Gwaine scrambled gracelessly to his feet, brushing himself off and clearing his throat, his cheeks burning as pink as his shirts of the day before.

The third day, Gwaine checked his clothes in the morning, and all was well. He cautiously examined all his training gear before putting it on, and all was well. Still suspicious, he remained on his guard the rest of the day, on the lookout for any signs of trouble from a certain servant.

And yet he failed to notice the hand that slipped something onto his seat at dinner, just before he sat all the way down.

Howling, Gwaine leapt upwards, glancing down in shock at the prickly pinecone lying innocently beneath him. The banquet chamber became loud with laughter as Gwaine's eyes turned rapidly towards Merlin, who was laughing just as exuberantly as any of the others.

Merlin sent his friend a kind wink, almost an apology, or at least a _thank you_ for being the butt of Merlin's pranks and being a good sport about it. Merlin's eyes were so friendly that Gwaine couldn't _possibly_ be mad. The fact that Gwaine had turned Merlin into a mischief-maker delighted him more than anything.

So Gwaine simply grinned and winked back, laughing energetically himself, even as he picked up the pinecone and hurled it teasingly back at Merlin. Merlin dodged, quickly raising his hands to shield himself. The pinecone whacked him and fell to the floor.

"Gwaine, pick up after yourself," the king reprimanded loudly from the head of the table. There was a chorus of surprised laughter from all around the table. Gaping, Gwaine turned and saw Arthur smirking. Shaking his head with a smile, Gwaine replied,

"Of course, Your Majesty. Though I hope you understand what this means." Arthur's eyebrows rose in silent, amused, question. The rest of the court fell silent as well.

Gwaine gave a wolfish grin. Percival, whose thoughts were exactly in tune with Gwaine's, grinned as well, as his friend announced, "You're fair game now, Arthur."

The hall erupted with noise.

* * *

Mordred was in high spirits. It seemed a miracle. Alvarr was dead, and yes, this was a tragedy. In the moments when he was alone, Mordred mourned his friend. He avoided all thoughts of Morgana, for they only made him angry. But Mordred refused to allow his sorrow to seep into every aspect of his life.

And life was surprisingly good. First, there was the war of pranks, which immensely brightened his moods by itself. Then, when Gwaine added Merlin into the war on a whim, Merlin's mood rose as well, which made Mordred happier in turn. And _then_, Merlin launched a full out retaliation for three days straight on the offending knight. This was more fun to watch than could be described in words. The entire Camelot court enjoyed watching the biggest trickster of them all fall victim to such an unlikely foe. Mordred acknowledged, but successfully ignored, all his urges to kiss the sassy grins right off of Merlin's face.

Then, the day after Merlin's third prank, Mordred, along with Sir Leon, was summoned to a private meeting with King Arthur. The three filed into a small room, and Arthur bolted the door behind them.

Laying a piece of parchment down on the table around which they all stood, Arthur said, "Gentlemen, this is the new route to collect the levy. Commit it to memory."

Confused, Mordred began, "My lord-"

"Tell _no _one of the change of plans until the patrol is on its way," Arthur interrupted seriously. "Is that understood?"

Leon nodded. "Sire."

"Mordred?"

"Of course, but… may I ask why we're changing the route, my lord?" Mordred asked. "This is another day's ride."

"I can't tell you that. I just ask that you trust me." Obediently, Mordred nodded his assent. "Good. We leave in three days."

Arthur held the plans over a lit candle. Watching the paper catch fire, a flame of suspicion began to flicker inside of Mordred.

* * *

Mordred had an idea of what was wrong. There was the possibility that Arthur had simply become aware that there was a traitor in their midst. Or, as Mordred was inclined to believe, Arthur had become aware that _Guinevere_ was a traitor in their midst. Mordred didn't have to struggle to imagine what that pain of betrayal felt like. His heart ached for his friend.

Later, he spotted Arthur standing at a window, gazing down into the courtyard. He couldn't help but approach.

"Sire?" Arthur turned his head. "Is all well?"

"Yes, thank you."

"If there's anything I can do."

Caught slightly off guard, Arthur replied, "Sorry?"

"I just wanted you to know I'm always at your service," Mordred told him, hoping his sincerity was clear to Arthur. _You can trust me with anything_, he wanted to say, _Let me help you bear this burden… _

"I never doubted it, Mordred," assured Arthur gently. Seeing that Arthur would say no more, Mordred smiled, nodded, and left, wishing he knew some way to gain enough of Arthur's affections that the king would be completely open with Mordred, and feeling sad that he did not.

* * *

Mordred was having a pleasant stroll with Gwaine through the castle when they rounded the corner and ran into a few familiar faces.

Gwaine had rightly taken Merlin's wink the previous night as the beginning of a truce. He'd been so relieved that he didn't have to be on his guard that he'd been in rather high spirits all day. Which is why, instead of cringing in anticipation of some embarrassing prank, Gwaine happily exclaimed, "Ah, Gaius and Merlin!"

"And a barrow of linen," Mordred added, referring to the cart that Merlin was pushing.

"Sir Gwaine, Sir Mordred," greeted Gaius respectfully, though it seemed clear that he didn't particularly wish to stop and chat. Mordred wondered…

"Planning on changing a bed?" Gwaine asked.

Mordred chimed in, "Or perhaps to run up some clothes?" Mordred had a strong feeling that Gaius and Merlin were hiding something, something to do with that barrow. Wanting to know just what was going on, he intentionally reached out towards the barrow, just to see how the two would react.

"_Don't_ touch that!" Gaius cried immediately, even as Merlin yanked it backward. Mordred's eyes flashed up in half-pretend shock. "Not unless you want to risk an attack of red thrush fever."

"I've never heard of it," Gwaine replied suspiciously.

_Neither have I…_ agreed Mordred, but by now he was _certain_ that something more was going on than met the eye, and he chose to stay silent and watch things unfold. He didn't wish to hinder Gaius and Merlin, whatever their purpose.

"Then you are fortunate indeed," said the physician. "More fortunate than the young man who just _died_ in these very bedclothes!"

As Gaius was speaking, Mordred reached out to Merlin and asked, _Merlin, what's going on? _There was no answer.

"They have to be burnt _immediately_."

_Let me help you, Merlin, whatever it is._

"The last thing Camelot needs is an outbreak of red thrush fever, is it not?"

"Yes, of course, sorry," answered Gwaine. The two knights parted so that Gaius, Merlin, and the barrow could pass by. Mordred resigned himself to the knowledge that Merlin didn't trust him enough to divulge the secret. It was rather frustrating. He wanted to be a help, but how _could_ he be if he didn't know what was wrong?

"Gaius!" Gwaine called abruptly.

Gaius turned back to him. "Sire?"

"What is the name of the unfortunate young man, so that I may send something to his family?"

A slight pause, then, "Timothy."

Gwaine smiled, nodded, and then patted Mordred on the shoulder before walking off. Mordred was about to follow when he glanced back at the barrow as it rounded the corner.

A hand dropped off of the cart. A hand that Mordred was sure he recognized.

Mordred stopped, slowly turning around as the pieces of the puzzle quickly set into place. He walked away with new purpose.

* * *

It pained Mordred that he was forced to follow Arthur and Merlin's trail like some sort of outlaw. On one level, it saddened Mordred that Arthur didn't like or trust him well enough to have told him of this plan, but he understood that. On an entirely different level, it broke his heart that things between he and Merlin had reached the point where _Merlin_ didn't trust him with such knowledge. Would he never trust Mordred again? Ever? Was there _no _hope?

Mordred peeked over the ridge and looked down on where Arthur and Merlin walked along. They stopped, discussing something.

Something inside of Mordred sent a shock of frightened butterflies through his stomach and, listening to his instincts, Mordred flung himself down, hiding himself from view. He forced calm breaths in and out, hoping he hadn't been spotted.

He stayed very still for several minutes, to be safe. Finally, he crawled slowly over the ground, peering over the ridge again. Arthur and Merlin had gone. Mordred sucked in a relieved breath. Grabbing his things, he set off again on the trail.

* * *

Mordred heard something. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it sounded like a voice calling out. Mordred hurried his pace anxiously.

Then, not too far away, he saw a woman's body lying on the ground. He rushed over to her, falling to his knees beside the queen. Guinevere was fine, just unconscious. This was good news. But where were Arthur and Merlin?

Looking around frantically, it did not take him long to understand. Grabbing a rope from his pack, Mordred jogged over to the cliff edge, gazing down.

Merlin was unconscious, lying on a flat rock several feet out from the cliff wall. Arthur was closer to the cliff, but his arm was trapped underneath two boulders. He was struggling to get his arm loose when Mordred first spotted him.

"_Arthur_!" he called out, beaming. Arthur's gaze snapped up with surprise. The king sighed and smiled with relief, dropping his sword.

"Check on Guinevere."

"I already have, sire," assured Mordred. "She sleeps soundly."

Mordred tossed the rope down the cliff wall then fastened the top tightly to a rock. With extreme care, he slid all the way down the rope until he reached the bottom. The knight rushed to the king's side, observing the problem.

"My arm…" Arthur said. "It's stuck." Mordred struggled not to roll his eyes.

"Yes, milord, I see that."

"Do you think you're strong enough to move that rock yourself?"

"I'll have to be."

Mordred stepped carefully around Arthur's body. He placed his hands on one of the huge rocks and set his feet firmly. He pushed against the boulder with all his might, straining his legs and arms. He could feel it shift slightly, but it didn't seem to have any intention of moving. He straightened up, relaxing his stance as he pondered his options.

"Mordred?" Arthur sounded concerned now. "Will you-"

"Do not worry, Arthur. I can do it. I _know_ I can."

This time, Mordred breathed in deeply, praying that Arthur would be as unaware as Merlin always said he was. Setting his feet again, he shoved outward as hard as he could, and then added a little extra. His eyes flashed golden. Through his combined physical and magical powers, the boulder moved, tumbling backwards and away. Arthur gave a short cry as the pressure on his arm disappeared.

Mordred was sweating slightly, but this time he straightened up again with a triumphant smile on his face. He reached down a hand to the king, who grabbed it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Arthur smiled shakily at Mordred.

"Thank you, Mordred," he said, "I'm indebted to you, yet again."

Mordred shook his head. "Not at all, my lord. I am glad to be of service to you."

Now Arthur turned towards his original purpose. Merlin. Mordred followed his gaze and swallowed. Merlin was still out cold, and it made Mordred a great deal more than uneasy. He was frightened, and felt a bit sick even.

But he also knew that he wanted to be the one beside Merlin when he woke. Not Arthur. It was selfish, he knew that, but he didn't care.

"My lord?" Arthur turned to him. "I suggest you go back up and kept watch over the queen. I will take care of Merlin." Arthur hesitated, looking back at his manservant unhappily.

"I'll let no harm come to him, I promise," said Mordred quietly.

After a brief pause, Arthur nodded his head. "All right, Mordred," he agreed. "Thank you."

Mordred watched Arthur hurry over to the rope and, with one last glance back, begin his climb up. Mordred walked smoothly to Merlin's side, as if that would calm his erratic heartbeat. He crouched down beside the man he loved.

* * *

_Merlin. Merlin._ _Merlin!_

Merlin jolted awake, roused from unconsciousness by the voice inside his head. He was immediately aware of two things: his aching body, and a very familiar figure crouching beside him.

"Mordred," he whispered. Mordred smiled half-heartedly. Regaining complete awareness, Merlin's expression was immediately hard. The knight's attempted smile died.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin's voice was low and suspicious.

"I followed you."

Merlin quickly sat up, his eyes darting anxiously around. "_Arthur_. Where is-"

"He's all right," assured Mordred kindly. "He keeps an eye on the queen."

Relaxing, Merlin looked towards Mordred. "Why did you follow us?" he asked sharply.

"I saw that it was Gwen you carted on that barrow and quickly guessed your purpose. I wish to be of help, to ensure that your mission is a success."

"Don't you worry that Morgana will find out?" said Merlin, his words like a bitter frost. Mordred was stunned, and he stared at Merlin silently for a few seconds. Did Merlin truly think…

"Merlin… after what Morgana did…" replied Mordred softly, his eyes downturned, "we are no longer allies. I see now that you were right."

"You no longer consort with her?"

"No. In fact, lately I've worried for my _own_ safety," he admitted. Merlin's stony expression didn't budge. "I feared that Morgana might use Guinevere to kill me. Luckily, she has not, but it's now in my best interests to see that the queen is returned to her former state."

"And that's why you're here," Merlin stated.

"Not only that."

"_What_ then?"

"Now that… Now that I no longer hold faith in Morgana's ability to change, I…" Mordred took a deep breath. He locked eyes intently with Merlin. "From here on, I pledge my loyalties only to Arthur, the King. I will serve him until the day I die."

Merlin's eyebrows pulled together, quietly bewildered. "What about your destiny, your _fate_?" he asked.

"I would rather see Arthur the ruler of this land than Morgana," declared Mordred passionately.

"Why?"

"Arthur at least still remembers love, and fights for it. I may not have any hope left for Morgana, but I have hope left for Arthur. I do believe he can change."

Mordred searched Merlin's eyes, and though Merlin seemed to be considering his words, he didn't seem to be believing them. If he did, surely his piercing gaze and forbidding look would have softened by now. Mordred's stomach clenched unhappily.

How could Merlin not hear the truth in his voice? Hadn't Merlin _seen_ Mordred's true intentions in the crystal? Why couldn't he just accept that Mordred was, and had always been, on his side?

So much for allowing Mordred the chance to earn back his trust. What a load of rubbish. Mordred could feel the frustration building swiftly within him.

After a moment of quiet, Merlin said, "Don't expect me to-"

"_Mordred_?" Arthur's cry echoed down the cliff. Mordred stood, turning to face the king. Arthur's face was full of worry. "Is all well?"

"Yes, sire!" Mordred called back. "Merlin has just woken." To prove it, Merlin rose to his feet as well, plastering a reassuring smile on his face.

"I'm fine, Arthur!" he shouted. A relieved smile broke on Arthur's face. "We're coming up!"

Arthur disappeared again from the ledge. Mordred turned back to Merlin, opening his mouth to speak. But Merlin picked up his bags and strode past him silently, making it very clear that he had no desire to continue the discussion. Mordred's fists curled together, but he took a deep breath to calm himself, and followed Merlin to the cliff wall.

* * *

"How did you end up like that, my lord?" asked Mordred tentatively as they walked along.

Their party of three was rather subdued. Merlin was clearly distrusting of Mordred's presence, Mordred was therefore irritated, and Arthur seemed to be _not_ oblivious of the tension. Altogether, this amounted to a very quiet traveling group. Seeming eager to break the silence, Arthur immediately jumped at the opportunity to speak.

"What, with my arm trapped between two rocks?"

"That is what I was referring to, yes."

"Merlin's fault."

The warlock turned to Arthur agape. "How is it _my _fault?"

"Well if you weren't so clumsy, I wouldn't have had to climb down to rescue you."

"Some rescue," muttered Merlin. Arthur glared at him.

"I started to make my way down," Arthur continued, "but it was too steep. I slipped and fell. Those two rocks unfortunately happened to break off and follow me down. I landed on the ground and they landed on _me_."

"I _am_ sorry, Arthur," said Merlin. Arthur turned to him with a teasing smile.

"Oh, I'm used to it by now. It wouldn't feel right if we went off on a mission and I _didn't_ have to save you from your own stupidity." Merlin chuckled. The group fell back into silence.

_And what of _you_, Merlin? _asked Mordred. He turned his head to the side, and Merlin met his gaze stoically. _Arthur may not have noticed, but you could not have fallen and landed naturally where you did. And certainly not perfectly intact._

_Levitation spell,_ answered Merlin. _Not enough to stop the fall, but enough to slow me down and aim my body. So, I avoided the big sharp rocks. Still landed hard enough to knock myself out._

_You really must_ _be more careful, _said Mordred with concern. _I may not always be there to-_

_What, to save me? _cut in Merlin. _No, I'm sure you won't. Counting on it, in fact. We would've been fine without you._

_Arthur was about to cut his arm off._

_Arthur's an idiot, _Merlin retorted._ I would've woken-_

_It was _my_ voice that roused you, remember? _Mordred pointed out. _Who knows how long it might have taken otherwise?_

_I've dealt with worse. I don't need you._

_Merlin… _Mordred's voice sounded tired, and sad._ I just want to help. I'm on your side, I swear._

Merlin exhibited no physical changes, but his tone seemed to bristle. _And I'm just to take you at your word, am I?_

_You _know _what happened with Morgana! _cried Mordred. _How can it not be _clear_ to you?_

_I told you. I just can't trust you after… everything._

It frustrated Mordred to no end. On the one hand, he understood perfectly why Merlin didn't trust him. It was sensible. On the other hand, it cut him too deeply for Mordred to simply back down and give up. But how else could he attempt to persuade the warlock of his honesty? One last idea came to mind.

_I still love you, _he said softly._ Isn't that enough?_

_Stop lying to me, Mordred_, was the immediate reply.

_It's the truth._

_I don't believe you._

Why_?_

_Why _should_ I?_

Tension was building in the young man's muscles, and it was taking a good deal of concentration not to let his face react even slightly to the telepathic conversation. _Because it- it's the only thing that makes sense! You _know_ that what we had was real._

_I _don't _know_ _that, in fact_, said Merlin frankly.

_You have such little faith in your own judgment?_

_Where you're concerned, yes._

_Why?_

_Because my feelings for you _cloud_ my judgment!_ Merlin exclaimed. Glancing aside at the manservant, Mordred saw an undeniable fire sparking in his eyes._ How can I know what's real and what isn't?_

_You are no fool_, answered Mordred._ You are the only person in Camelot that I never could have deceived. And I never did._

_You're forgetting the little detail of you becoming allies with Morgana_, was the dry reply.

_That was only to help her. Is that not a noble cause?_

_The _point _is that you _are_ able to deceive me._

_No, _the druid disagreed._ That was no deception. Had my intentions been less than good, you would have known. You only did not discover the truth about Morgana because you know who I am at heart. You know that I am good._

_I _thought_ you were._

_And you were right._

_Maybe, maybe not._

Mordred's fingers curled together into tight fists. This conversation was leading nowhere. It was only succeeding in wounding him further. With a sigh, he said,

_Let us stop this arguing, it does neither of us any good. _He took Merlin's silence as acceptance. _Just… Believe what you will about my intentions and my allegiances. It is my hope that in time you will be convinced of the truth. But know this now, for I swear on my being that it is truth. _He spared another subtle glance to the side. Merlin was walking as casually as ever, but Mordred was certain that he was listening intently._ I truly loved you. It was no act. And I love you still._

Merlin's eyes slid shut for a brief moment. _Please stop saying that._

_I know you love me as well_, he pressed._ Why can't you just admit it?_

_It doesn't matter._

_It matters a great deal to me_, retorted Mordred._ That is all I ask you for. I ask not for your trust or even your friendship. Only the reassurance of your love. What possible harm can that do us? Do we not deserve that much?_

_Mordred…_ The name was uttered as a plea.

_Please._ Mordred was too stubborn to let it go. He needed this. Needed it more than anything. To hear the words that had so long been kept from him._ Do not deny me this. I love you, Merlin. Always._

There was nothing but silence on the other end. The soft tread of boots over the path was all the sound to be heard for a good long minute. Mordred forced himself to look away, fighting the urge to blow a random boulder into smithereens. Then he heard something that set his heart alight and gave him greater happiness than he'd possessed in many weeks.

_I love you too, Mordred._


	23. Instincts

_Author's Note: Wow! The reviews to the last chapter floored me. It's been a long time since I've gotten such a great response. Thank you so much, those of you who reviewed! I hope you all like this new chapter. More spoilers for S5E9._

* * *

"Set up the camp, will you, Merlin?" the king asked when the party of three stopped for the night.

"Of course, Arthur."

The manservant set down the bags he'd been carrying and set to work doing just that. Mordred quickly moved to help Merlin, eager to be near him. It had been a long time since being close by Merlin's side had not only made his heart beat faster, but actually made him _happy_. He wasn't planning on missing out on any opportunity to be beside Merlin for as long as that remained true. Before he could get there, however, Arthur called out,

"Mordred!"

Reluctantly, the knight turned with a smile. "Yes, sire?"

"Take a stroll with me," requested (gently commanded) Arthur, gesturing with his head. Mordred was puzzled, but answered instinctively.

"Of course."

Mordred strode to Arthur's side, feeling as Merlin's gaze followed them. Mordred looked at Arthur curiously, but Arthur's eyes were aimed straight ahead as they walked away from the chosen campsite.

When they'd gone far enough away that there was no chance of Merlin overhearing, Arthur finally turned to look at Mordred.

"It seems that things have gone sour between you and Merlin again."

Mordred's feet almost stopped with shock. As it was, an unpleasant jolt of anxiety raced through him. What exactly did Arthur _know_?

"…How…" he fumbled nervously with his words, "What do you mean?"

"I know that you two have had a rocky friendship."

_Friendship_.The word echoed in his head, bringing Mordred relief. Arthur had no idea, then. Good.

"I noticed once before when there was trouble between the two of you, but I thought you'd sorted it out," said Arthur.

"Oh. We, uh… we did. For a time," answered the young man honestly. What could he say? How could he pull this off without setting off alarm bells in Arthur's admittedly thick skull? "I… I apologize if we are-"

"No, none of that, please," Arthur interrupted. "I just hate to see you two at such odds. Why such hostility between you again? Particularly from Merlin it seems."

"I… cannot say for certain," said Mordred carefully. "I believe that he distrusts me."

"I wish it were not so."

"Believe me, I wish the same."

"Mordred, the two of you mean as much to me as family," divulged the king, turning to Mordred fully. Mordred was struck by the true concern and affection in his eyes. It warmed his heart, but also made him feel a twinge of guilt. "I understand that perhaps it isn't my place to ask it, but if there's any way that you can try to mend things..."

Mordred's eyebrows rose, and his mouth started to open, but he could think of nothing to say.

"Merlin isn't unreasonable," Arthur continued. "I'm sure that something can be done about this rift between you."

Mordred nodded. "If that is what you wish, Arthur, then I shall try. But don't expect too much."

Arthur nodded in return. There was a moment of pause then Arthur made a face. "I just can't understand. Why _now_? Weren't things fine before?"

"I fear I cannot explain it," Mordred lied smoothly.

Arthur sighed. "All right. Then come. Let's return."

* * *

The three men sat around the campfire, Arthur and Merlin sitting beside each other, and Mordred on the other side of the flames. Arthur explained to Mordred the situation with Guinevere. Mordred feigned appropriate ignorance and surprise at all that was revealed.

To Merlin, this was an unpleasant reminder of how fine an actor Mordred was. It only served to make him more unsettled, and he remained quiet for the most part. When he did chime in, his words were flat. Every glance at Mordred was filled with displeasure.

"Merlin, if I had to rely on your time-keeping, I'd have lost both my arms and my legs to boot," Arthur said. Mordred chuckled, looking down. Merlin shot a cold look towards the younger man.

"It's good to have you with us," continued Arthur. Mordred looked up and, upon seeing Merlin's expression, his smile died. "Three is always better than two, isn't that right, Merlin?"

"Course," answered Merlin. The words were obviously an unhappy lie. Mordred watched Merlin look at Arthur, then at Mordred, then away.

"It's time," Merlin announced, speaking of the dinner being prepared.

"I'll do it," offered Arthur immediately.

"Two drops only."

Arthur strode off to complete the task as instructed, thinking himself quite clever for giving Merlin and Mordred a few moments alone.

Merlin sat back down in his spot across from Mordred. A moment later, Mordred was rising. His intent was immediately clear. A whirl of confused thoughts flitted into Merlin's mind.

_Why he is coming over here? _he wondered suspiciously, his brain working quickly to unravel the mystery before Mordred reached him._ If he wishes to speak to me, he could do so inconspicuously from there. Arthur's so close, he could easily overhear anything Mordred says aloud. It's almost as if he's _trying_ to get Arthur's atten-_

_That's exactly what he's doing_, he realized, no less confused than before._ But why?_

By now, Mordred had crouched down beside him. He locked eyes with the warlock. "You don't trust me, do you, Merlin?" he asked pointedly.

Merlin was well aware that they both already knew the answer to that, and he was still unsure what direction this conversation was meant to take. All he _did_ know was that it was somehow for Arthur's benefit. So Merlin chose an obvious but diplomatic reply, for Arthur's sake. "I believe you to be a… fine knight." He smiled mockingly, almost taunting Mordred.

"But not one to be trusted," repeated Mordred firmly. Merlin looked up at him steadily, unwilling to respond. What was Mordred's purpose here? "It's all right. I know you have the king's best interests at heart." At this, Merlin looked over at the friend who he was sure was eavesdropping on this exchange. "I only wish you'd believe that I do too. One day, I shall prove my loyalty to you and to the king. Then I hope we may be friends." Mordred gave a small half-smile.

Latching onto this last statement, Merlin replied, "Could wish for nothing more," intentionally stabbing at Mordred with the message that, even should Mordred prove to be loyal and true, Merlin wouldn't want any relationship greater than that of friendship. It was a lie, of course, but Merlin was feeling rather bitter at having been used by Mordred for… whatever this was.

Mordred's jaw tensed, understanding Merlin's spiteful meaning. He looked down, got up, and returned to his spot, his body laced with hurt and annoyed tension.

A brief moment later, Arthur returned with the stew, and they all settled down to eat. As they were doing so, silence hung over them like a cloud. Feeling assured that speaking to Mordred wouldn't distract from any chance of Arthur starting up conversation, Merlin thought forcefully, _I don't appreciate being used like that_.

_I was proving a point_, answered Mordred coldly._ To Arthur._

_What point is that?_

_Do you remember when Arthur told you to fix things between us, all that time ago?_

This succeeded in throwing Merlin off-kilter. _What? I- yes? _Merlin's confusion had softened his tone, and so Mordred immediately lost his edge as well, his remaining annoyance fading away.

_Essentially, he has now made the same request of _me_, _Mordred explained calmly.

_He… what?_

_I was only trying to show him why doing so wouldn't be easy._

_Arthur asked you to mend things between us?_

_Yes. _Mordred looked up, glancing quizzically at the manservant when no reply was made. Merlin's eyebrows had risen and he was staring down into his bowl without actually eating. _You seem surprised_, remarked the knight.

_I'm _always_ surprised when Arthur notices things_, Merlin quipped. An amused smile pulled briefly at Mordred's lips._ But…_

_Yes?_

_If he asked that of you, I… I'm willing to try._

Mordred's eyes shot wide open, his hope breaking through his normally perfect control over his features. _To fix things? _he asked quickly.

_No. We've done all we can on that account. _And just like that, Mordred's heart dropped back into his stomach._ But I can… be cordial with you. I can shove aside all those doubts and fears when we're together. I can trick myself into treating you as a friend._

Mordred paused. He was intrigued, at the very least. _How?_

_Simple enough_, answered Merlin bluntly._ It's my instinct to do so. Being hostile with you is the difficulty. Fighting my natural inclinations._

_Then why do you do it?_ Mordred asked softly.

_To protect Arthur._

Mordred's teeth clenched, but his tone remained pleasant. _Of course. Foolish question. Then… friends?_

_You can think of it that way if you want,_ said Merlin._ But don't forget. I'm always going to be watching you._

_I won't forget, _Mordred replied seriously. Then, on a whim, he decided to go out on a limb and see what would happen if…_ I know you like to look. And I like that you do._

Merlin was so prepared to snap back with a reprimand, to tell Mordred to hold his tongue, to quit his flirting. But then… he didn't. Because that would be fighting his instincts. And his instincts were to smile.

So he smiled.

* * *

Arthur was feeling rather pleased with himself. Merlin and Mordred had been perfectly cordial with each other all day. He'd been right. Merlin was reasonable. He was glad that things between his closest friends were getting better.

But, even more so, he was anxious to save his wife, and they'd traveled so far already.

"How much further?" Arthur asked.

"Not far," answered Merlin. "This gorge leads to the Cauldron."

Suddenly, a sound rang out that sent of shock of fear through all three. A dragon shrieked, suddenly appearing in the sky above them. It swooped down at them, blasting fire.

Thinking quickly, Arthur cried, "Here!" Arthur ran off with Gwen as Mordred and Merlin looked up for the majestic beast. Mordred followed Arthur quickly, but Merlin stayed put and looked around for another moment. Then he too ran underneath the stone archway Arthur had chosen as their defense.

"Morgana must be close," the king stated.

"You go," Merlin said, beginning to drop all of the supplies to the ground. "I'll distract it."

"_No_."

"You _must_!" the manservant insisted.

"You're the only one who knows where the sorceress is," Arthur pointed out, feeling rather reluctant to speak the _real_ reason he didn't want to leave Merlin. It had nothing to do with finding the Dolma. He was purely concerned for Merlin's safety. What if something happened to him? Arthur didn't think he could bear it.

"_Arthur_!" Merlin yelled impatiently as the dragon flew by, screeching.

"Get Gwen to safety, sire!" Mordred chimed in insistently. "We'll cover you and join you beyond the gorge."

Arthur hesitated another second, but the fact that Merlin and Mordred were in agreement made up his mind. "Very well," he agreed reluctantly. Keeping his eyes on the skies, Arthur left with Guinevere hoisted over his shoulders.

As soon as he was gone, Merlin said, "Stay here, I'll divert the creature."

Immediately frantic, Mordred instinctively grabbed at Merlin, trying to pull him back. "Merlin, you can't!" he exclaimed, eyes wide with fear.

"I know what I'm doing, Mordred," was the firm reply, as Merlin held him back with a hand on his chest. At this point, Mordred couldn't tell if his pulse was picking up its pace from the fear or from the physical contact.

Either way, Merlin ignored Mordred and rushed out, preparing to confront the dragon. Mordred wanted to smack Merlin upside the head for not listening to him.

Mordred knew that Merlin was a Dragonlord. He knew that Merlin could handle Aithusa. That wasn't the problem. The _problem_, which Merlin was a dunce not to see for himself, was that where Aithusa was, Morgana was never far away. She could be standing at the top of a cliff right now, watching everything. She could see Merlin reveal himself as a sorcerer and a Dragonlord. Or hear him, even if her eyes weren't on him.

Merlin would be done for.

Mind whirling in a panic, Mordred did the first thing that came to mind.

* * *

Morgana was racing across the rocky ground. She was almost there. Soon she would be with Aithusa, able to watch as her faithful friend tore apart the four people whom she had once been closest to, and now wished to see dead.

Suddenly,

_MORGANA!_ The High Priestess reeled from the sheer volume and intensity of the voice inside her head. Eyes flying shut, she stumbled until she vaguely felt her back hit a stone wall. _GIVE THIS UP._

The roaring noise was too loud even to let Morgana think, let alone respond. She could barely breathe.

_I'LL PROTECT THEM. YOU SHALL NOT WIN THIS BATTLE. IF ANY SENSE IS LEFT IN YOU, TURN AWAY. _

Then the voice was mercifully gone. Morgana gasped in a huge breath, allowing a brief moment for her head to clear. Rather than dissuade her, Mordred's words had, if anything, encouraged her. Snarling, she quickly continued on her way.

* * *

As soon as Mordred saw Merlin running back towards him, he cut off his connection to Morgana, hoping to all the gods that he'd kept her distracted, blind and deaf to all else, and successfully protected Merlin's secret.

"What happened?" he asked. Merlin started grabbing their supplies, offering no answer. "_Merlin_!"

"Gone," was the warlock's short answer.

"The dragon?" replied Mordred, trying to ask if "Gone" meant Morgana as well, or-

"We need to move!"

Merlin rushed out, hefting a bag over his shoulder, and Mordred followed obediently. They ran.

But not for long.

Both Mordred and Merlin went flying through the air, blown off their feet by a power that clearly belonged to Morgana. As soon as the impact struck, Merlin instinctively cried, _Mordred!_, scared, as he was, for both himself and the man he loved.

They slammed painfully into the ground.

_Leave Morgana to me. _Merlin glanced over at Mordred and saw that he was feigning unconsciousness. _Help Arthur._

In that split second, Merlin had to make a choice. There was no time to think, to weigh the options, he could only trust his instincts, do what his heart told him to do.

Merlin jumped to his feet and ran, trusting Mordred, in his heart, to hold Morgana off rather than aid her.

* * *

Mordred waited patiently. Soon he heard the soft sounds of movement over the gravelly path. A gloved hand stroked his cheek gently. Finally, he allowed his eyes to flash open, pretending that he was just rousing from unconsciousness.

Mordred looked at the woman just in front of him. In an instant, he felt such an intense rush of varying emotions that he immediately understood why he'd been so carefully avoiding all thoughts of Morgana of late. If he hadn't, he would've gone crazy with anger and grief. There would've been no way for him to be happy or to laugh. He would have been nothing but a container full of the hurt of disappointed hopes and betrayal.

"Why don't you kill me?" he asked.

"My argument is not with you, Mordred," she answered, something akin to softness in her eyes. "How could it be? We're of a kind."

At this, Mordred rose off of the ground and quickly backed away.

"Never."

"You wear the uniform well, but we both know what lies beneath it." Mordred looked down at himself, his insides twisting. "Do you think Arthur would tolerate you for one minute if he knew the truth? One of his knights a sorcerer," she mocked scathingly.

"One day he will know," he told her, unsure which of them he was actually trying to convince. "One day we will be accepted."

"Your naivety would be charming, if it wasn't so dangerous!" snapped Morgana. Mordred was surprised to see that, rather than angry, she simply looked pained. On the verge of tears, even. Did she… miss Mordred? Was it possible that she still cared for him? But-

"Where's Emrys?"

Mordred shook his head slightly, distracted by his ponderings and trying to force himself back into the conversation. "Emrys?" he repeated, as though not comprehending.

"You pretend you do not know of whom I speak?" Her tone was one of amused incredulity. Mordred slapped himself internally. They'd spoken together of Emrys many times before. He obviously couldn't feign ignorance.

"Tis a name I've only heard of," said the knight instead.

"He's not here?" she asked pointedly, gritting her teeth. "With you?"

"If he was, would we both not feel the presence of such a great sorcerer?" was the reply. Morgana glanced away, contemplating this. Then her expression hardened, and she looked back up at her former ally.

"Then I have no further use for you." Morgana raised a hand.

Panicking, Mordred cried, "You would strike one of your own?" His echo of Alvarr's words gave Morgana pause. She was clearly conflicted. Was it possible that she somehow still felt some measure of affection for Alvarr as well, despite… what she'd done to him?

"I am not strong enough to defeat you, Morgana, but know this. Such hatred as yours can never triumph." Yet again, Morgana seemed on the verge of crying. Mordred hated himself for pitying her. "I hope one day you will find the love and compassion which used to fill your heart."

Struck silent, Morgana did nothing for a second, merely stared at Mordred. Steeling himself, Mordred quickly raised a hand, and did what he had to do.

He lowered his arm slowly, fingers clenching into an unhappy fist. The druid man walked towards the body of the unconscious witch. One tear dripping from his eye, he crouched down beside her.

"I am sorry that this ever happened to you, Morgana," he whispered. Reaching down, he scooped her into his arms. Glancing around, he used his magic to enhance his vision and scouted the surrounding area for a place to deposit the young woman's body. Finding a secluded spot, one well hidden from the main path, Mordred made his way there, climbing carefully over rocks and through tight spaces.

Finally he stopped, setting Morgana down on the ground. She would not be seen here. Ignoring the ridiculous feelings of sadness and guilt, Mordred reached out a hand and whispered words of a spell under his breath, using his hand to mime a circular motion as he did so.

It was a binding spell. He tied Morgana up, not with rope, as that would be pointless, but with magic. It still would be unable to hold her for long when she awoke, but it should be long enough for Mordred, Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen to safely return home. Mordred thought for another moment before gently brushing his hand across her mouth, whispering similar words. This one would keep her silent, for a time, so that she couldn't call for aid from Aithusa.

Satisfied that the sorceress had been thoroughly taken care of, Mordred rose to his feet, eyes never leaving her for a second. He stood there in utter silence for another minute, just gazing down at his old friend.

He turned and left, not once considering the fact that killing Morgana would be a more effective way of eliminating any dangers she posed. The thought never even crossed his mind.


	24. With All My Heart

_Author's Note: Hey ya'll. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, I just really wanted to wrap up episode 9. So, obviously, WARNING: More spoilers for S5E9. Thank you so much to the wonderful response to the last chapter. It looks like there are a number of new readers as well, which is great, so welcome on board! Thanks for reading everyone._

* * *

Having fallen behind, Mordred ran the rest of the way to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. When Arthur spotted him, he rose from Guinevere's side, clearly stunned. Mordred had a very brief moment to wonder where Merlin was before he reached the king.

"_Mor_dred! I thought we'd lost you." The friends clasped arms.

"So did I," agreed Mordred.

"How did you escape Morgana?" came the inevitable question.

Mordred was struck dumb for a moment before proudly replying, "Even _she_ is no match for a Knight of the Round Table."

"No, seriously, Mordred," returned Arthur. The young knight began to panic. Arthur clearly wasn't going to accept anything less than the truth. But what could he say? _Oh, I knocked her unconscious and then bound her with my magic. You don't mind, do you, Arthur?_ Mercifully, Mordred was spared having to respond. A figure appeared from behind a rock, and both Mordred and Arthur turned to look.

All thoughts vanished from Arthur's mind as he gazed, unimpressed and a bit surprised, at the wholly unattractive woman stumbling towards them.

Mordred was stunned speechless by the sight as well, and then quickly realized what _exactly_ he was looking at. His jaw dropped ever so slightly.

"Now it makes sense," Arthur told him. "Merlin said she had trouble getting clothes." Mordred found this _immensely_ funny, but was still in such a state of shock that a laugh did not emerge, luckily for him.

"Who are you? What business have you in this sacred place?" rasped the very old, and very female, version of Merlin. The voice alone would have been enough to send a lesser man into hysterics, but Mordred heroically kept it together.

"Are you the Dolma?" Arthur asked, peering from under his eyebrows, and clearly trying his best to be polite. Perhaps he'd truly learned a lesson from his experiences with the Disir. "Ancient sorceress of the Cauldron of Arianrhod?"

Merlin (the Dolma) inclined his (her) head, smiling, holding out his (her) hands. "Who else would I be?"

_Looking good, Merlin, _teased Mordred silently, as if to specifically address the Dolma's question. Merlin made no reply, but Mordred was sure he'd heard, and the lack of a snappy reprimand seemed promising.

Arthur leaned close to Mordred, keeping his eyes on the strange woman. "Does she look familiar to you?" he asked quietly.

"There is _some_thing," Mordred whispered back, thinking that he deserved some sort of medal for managing to answer Arthur in a serious tone rather than the sarcastic, amused tone that was just aching to be used.

"What say you?" snapped the Dolma (Merlin) anxiously. "Why do you mutter?"

"You look familiar, sorceress," answered Arthur honestly. Mordred could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to unravel the puzzle. That wasn't good. What if Arthur actually figured it out?

"Oh," was the surprised reply. Clearly unsure how to react, Merlin gave Arthur a flirtatious look, brushing back his long white hair. Mordred couldn't even be bothered to mind that his (ex)lover was looking at someone else like that—it was just too funny. Mordred found himself wishing that his friends were there, enjoying the spectacle with him. "Is that so?"

"It is."

Deciding that a change of thoughts was needed to distract Arthur from discovering the truth, Mordred leaned towards him and asked, "My lord, where is Merlin?"

As predicted, Arthur's mind immediately lost its train of thought and switched into _Protect Merlin_ mode.

"What have you done with my servant?" he demanded, his hand on his sword hilt. There was a slight pause before the Dolma answered, smiling,

"Oh. The _gangly_ boy. Mm." If Mordred had ever enjoyed himself more, he couldn't remember the occasion. Arthur, on the other hand, drew his sword threateningly. "If you kill me you'll never see him again," Merlin said quickly. Arthur stopped.

"I am an old woman," the sorcerer/ess continued. "Is it not natural I seek some surety?" Arthur's brow crinkled unhappily in thought. Mordred bit his tongue to keep from laughing. "The boy will be returned to you when we have concluded our business."

"You know why we're here," the king stated.

"_Noth_ing is hidden from… the Dolma," Merlin announced. "Now hurry." Now Mordred looked to Gwen, remembering the whole reason behind this charade. "Before your queen awakes. Set her by the pool."

Mordred nearly collapsed into fits of very unmanly giggles at the flamboyant gesture that followed. It was all just too much.

* * *

The Dolma explained to Arthur his job, and the risks involved. Mordred watched helplessly from the sidelines, praying to the gods that Arthur and Merlin would succeed.

Gwen was woken, and quickly fought against Arthur with everything she had. Nothing Arthur said seemed to make any difference. The air was becoming more tense and nervous by the second. What if Arthur couldn't reach her?

"Let me go!" Gwen cried, still struggling to escape her husband's grasp.

"_Arthur_," Merlin stressed, not for the first time.

"Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?" asked Arthur. "Do you remember what you said? You said 'with all my heart', that's what you said, Guinevere. That was no subterfuge, no trickery."

Mordred watched in amazement as the queen calmed, stumbling slightly. He himself was affected by Arthur's recollection. How sweet, how romantic…

A sudden flash of guilt struck Mordred in the gut as he remembered the part he had played in turning Guinevere against Arthur. No _wonder_ Merlin was so reluctant to let him back into his heart. How could he have done such a thing to Arthur, to such a good friend? His chest ached.

"With all my heart."

The words reverberated inside of Mordred, and he found himself thinking back to a time when he'd said the exact same words to Merlin*. To the love of _his_ life, the way that Gwen was Arthur's.

"With all my heart."

Mordred fought against the tears inside of him. Gwen and Arthur had gotten their happily ever after. Surely, _surely_, so could he and Merlin. Their love was just as strong, just as powerful and true. It was like he'd told Morgana. Hatred, like hers, couldn't triumph. But love could. Love _would_ triumph.

"With all my heart," the queen repeated finally, close to crying.

* * *

Merlin couldn't deny that he was moved when Arthur held out a hand towards Gwen, and she walked forward slowly towards him. Finally, Arthur's love had reached her.

_With all my heart_.

In his mind, Merlin heard the same words, but in a different voice. A gentle, beautiful voice that soothed him and caused his heart to race.

Merlin didn't glance aside at Mordred, despite how badly he wanted to. He couldn't give Mordred such blatant encouragement as to make it so obvious that the scene before them was making Merlin think of Mordred. It _was_ Mordred, after all, that Merlin loved.

Suddenly, a feeling of blissful lightness soared through Merlin's entire being. He felt clearer than he had in a long time.

All thoughts of destiny, fate, Morgana, even the image Merlin had seen in the pool of Mordred killing Arthur, they all faded from his mind. For the first time in, perhaps, years, Merlin was free of those burdens, free of the foreknowledge that had so often been his curse. And all he could think was…

_I love him._

The love he felt for Mordred overwhelmed him, making him feel stronger and more confident than ever before. Before this moment, he'd feared that his magic wouldn't be strong enough to save Gwen—now his doubts were gone. The power was there inside of him, in the very core of his heart. His love for Mordred was all he needed to get through this. The promise that one day, somehow, they would be together again.

Merlin didn't know how, or when, or what would happen before they got there, but for the moment, it didn't bother him. He didn't worry. He simply knew in his soul that it was true, that they would find each other again. How could they not? He loved Mordred. And Mordred loved him. They were _meant_ to be together, just as Arthur and Guinevere were.

The words of power came flowing from Merlin's mouth before he'd even realized that he'd begun. It was so effortless. And when Merlin finished, he did not feel tired at all. If anything, he felt more whole.

Gwen shone with light as the Goddess washed her clean of Morgana's taint. The queen reached out to Arthur, and he waded forward. They embraced.

Merlin and Mordred both smiled.

* * *

Soon after, their party of four was riding back towards Camelot, with Arthur and Guinevere leading and Merlin and Mordred following.

"Arthur's a lucky man," said Mordred.

"Yes."

"Not just to have Gwen, to have _you_."

Merlin's heart raced a little faster. He murmured, "He'd find someone else to do his chores soon enough."

"That was hardly a chore. That was your magic back there, wasn't it?"

Merlin did not bother answering the question, as they both clearly knew the truth. Instead he thought back, _Do you _want_ Arthur to hear you?_

Mordred gave a small smile. "Have no fear, I will not divulge your secret." Then, "I admire you." _As I love you_, was added silently. Mordred glanced aside at Merlin, becoming a bit put out with Merlin's coldness and lack of response.

Merlin desperately wanted to reply, to assure Mordred that the feelings were mutual. He wanted to tell Mordred that it was the thought of him that had given Merlin the strength to complete the spell.

But he couldn't. He already felt guilty enough about it. Now that the moment had passed, his heart felt guilty for having admitted to such deep feelings. The only proper course of action from here on would be to shut Mordred out again, to act cold. Whatever it took to lessen those feelings, so that it would hurt less when the time inevitably came when he would lose Mordred.

So he said nothing, remaining stonily silent instead.

"It can't be easy to do so much for so little reward," continued Mordred, intentionally provoking a reaction. He succeeded.

"I do not seek reward," was Merlin's immediate, sharp response.

"Recognition, then," amended Mordred.

"My friends are safe and well, that's all I require."

"You see, Merlin, we do have something in common after all." _Fighting for our friends no matter the risk. And "_The future of Camelot."

Mordred tried to smile, but it came out weak. His spirits had been dampened by Merlin's most recent change of attitude. It cut him to the core, but after what he had witnessed between Arthur and Gwen at the Cauldron, he was determined to never give up, because you simply don't give up on love. Some things are worth fighting for. And Merlin's love was one of them.

* * *

*_If you were curious, this is referring to Chapter Fifteen._


	25. Fun and Games

_Author's Note: Hey everyone! I want to say, thank you so much for all of your positive reviews. They really keep my spirits up. _

_So, I'd also like to apologize for the fact that my updates have been as infrequent as they have. I used to do some writing practically every day, and now it's much less often. No real reason, I guess I just lost some of that spark. But I truly feel bad about that, because you lovely loyal readers deserve better. Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon the story or anything. I'm very devoted to this story, and determined to see it through to the end. But still, I'm going to try and get in the swing of it again, so that hopefully I'll be able to publish more quickly. Thanks for your patience._

_Thank you so much to everyone sticking with me for this story! Your support is appreciated._

* * *

_Everyone_ was in a good mood. Arthur had been astoundingly happy recently, though none knew why (except Merlin, Mordred, Gaius, and Guinevere), and his happiness had spread like a benevolent plague. They all loved their king, and to see him so lighthearted gave them joy. Merlin and Mordred were certainly not immune to it themselves, given how close they both were to Arthur.

Mordred sat at the banquet table, laughing heartily along with his friends, the other knights. No one seemed to be in short supply of smiles, jokes, and laughs tonight. Every so often, Mordred glanced towards the head of the table. Each time, he was immensely gratified to see Arthur gazing unabashedly at his wife with such deep love in his eyes that no one even had the heart to mock him for it. Gwen's cheeks were red with an embarrassed blush that only grew over the course of the evening, but she still seemed happy, and the same love in Arthur's eyes shone from hers.

His soul feeling light, Mordred turned his gaze towards Merlin, who was watching the royal couple with a gentle smile on his face. _We did a good thing,_ he thought. Merlin turned to face him. When their eyes met, the air between them sparked with electricity. Mordred knew he would never grow tired of that beautiful tension, the chemistry between them.

The smile on Merlin's face faded and he stared at the knight, seeming stuck. Mordred waited patiently, though his heart was thumping. He wished he had some way of knowing what was going on in Merlin's mind.

Then, mercifully, the smile returned, softening Merlin's expression. _We did_, the manservant agreed. _It's nice to see Arthur so happy again._

_And it's all thanks to you, Merlin_, said Mordred.

_Well yeah_, Merlin deadpanned. Mordred chuckled. _As usual._

_Modest as ever, I see,_ Mordred teased. Merlin's lips twitched towards a smirk.

_This is what happens when you're not around to keep me humble, _was his retort.

_Is that so? I apologize for being derelict in my duties then._

_In truth, Mordred…_ Merlin paused. _A great deal of thanks is due to you as well, though it took me some time to remember it. I'm sorry for that._

Mordred's brow drew together confusedly. _What do you mean?_

_If you hadn't stopped Morgana, I don't know what would've happened. Without you, I couldn't have saved Gwen._

Mordred warmed at the praise, and his eyes flicked shyly down to the table. _I was only doing my duty._

_No, it was much more than that. _Mordred smiled, but still did not look up. _I know it must've been hard for you._

_It had to be done._

_Thank you, Mordred._ Now he looked up, and when he looked at Merlin again, the warlock was smiling sweetly at him. _Believe me when I say that I won't forget it. I dared to trust in you, and you came through. I'm grateful._

_All I want is to serve Arthur_, answered Mordred. _As you do. Though I'll never measure up to you, I wish to at least be at your side, doing all that I can for the king._

_We make a good team, don't we?_

_Yes, we do. Though it was you, truly, who saved the day._

_I'm not sure you're doing such a splendid job at keeping me humble_, sassed Merlin. Then, more seriously, he said, _Well, you've always given me more credit than I deserve._

It hurt Mordred how even now, even after all he'd done, Merlin still thought he wasn't good enough. Trying to lift Merlin's spirits on that account, he asked teasingly, _Are you accusing me of being a liar, or simply a fool?_

Merlin looked startled. _I didn't say you were either-_

_It must be one or the other. If you are so certain that I gave credit where it was undue._

_Then I suppose you'd know better than I would._

_As I've told you before, I never lied to you._

_I reckon you've answered your own question then, _the warlock retorted. Mordred was pleased to note that his tone already seemed brighter. _You must be a fool._

_A fool for _you_ perhaps_, was the quick reply. Mordred winked devilishly as Merlin's ears grew pink, as Mordred hadn't seen them do for some months. The reaction brought a bright smile to Mordred's face, which in turn drew a sheepish, crooked grin from Merlin.

_Or perhaps you've just had too much to drink_, he quipped. _You're liable to say anything in such a state._

_What if I were to say 'I love you'? _Mordred inquired. _Would that be written off as well?_

Merlin's amused look melted from his features. Mordred felt his stomach twisting. He knew, even before Merlin spoke again, that he'd overstepped the boundary.

_You shouldn't ignore your friends for my sake. You should rejoin their conversation._

Mordred sighed, but did as he was bid. The warmth had faded from Merlin's blue eyes. There was no point in continuing on.

He took note of how the conversation had gone. Apparently Merlin drew the line at the actual vocalization of the sentiment of love. A part of Mordred felt it to be insensible, but the better part of him understood. And while it did frustrate him to be met with such resistance on Merlin's part, when Mordred was trying so hard to win him back and be worthy of his love this time round, he squashed those feelings and simply decided to keep trying. What else could he do?

"The king looks very happy, doesn't he," stated Gwaine softly. Mordred nodded, following Gwaine's gaze towards the head of the table, where Gwen and Arthur were laughing together.

"Indeed he does," agreed Mordred. Turning back towards his friend, Mordred saw a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh no. What are you plotting, Gwaine? Please, don't ruin Arthur's reprieve of happiness."

"No, no, of course not." Gwaine brushed his worries aside. Mordred raised his eyebrows, a mix of disbelief and simple curiosity. "I just think that, what with Arthur being in such a good mood lately, it might be a good time to uh… have a bit of fun."

"What do you mean?"

"Well he's bound to be lenient when he's like this, don't you think?"

"Lenient towards… what, exactly?" asked Mordred cautiously. Gwaine grinned and leaned in close.

"Here's what I propose…"

* * *

"Mordred!"

He turned with a kind smile towards his king, lowering the rag he'd been using to wipe the sweat off his face. Arthur came jogging up beside him. His hair and face were glistening with the water he'd just dumped atop his head, the perfect way to cool off after a hard training session under a blistering hot sun.

Arthur grinned. "You're in top shape today, Mordred," he complimented. Mordred beamed, happily surprised. "I don't believe I've ever seen you in such excellent fighting form."

Mordred inclined his head graciously. "I've been practicing hard. I aspire to one day be as fine a warrior as yourself."

"Well, it seems as though your practice may pay off!" replied Arthur. His gaze was proud and admiring. "If you continue to improve at this rate, I fear I shall soon face serious competition for the crown."

It was a jest, and Mordred treated it as one, releasing a gentle laugh. "You have little to fear on that account, my lord. There is none other but you who could rule this land with such wisdom and grace."

Arthur was a bit taken aback by words of such esteem, spoken by a man acknowledged by all only to speak the truth. He could do nothing but nod his head slightly, his eyes bright with gratitude. Glancing away, then back, Arthur continued, "I must admit, I'm astonished at how quickly you've improved."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"I _mean_ it," he stressed. "You're one of my very best, as I'm sure you know. I would just like you to know that _I_ know it as well."

Mordred's heart lightened. "I cannot tell you what that means to me, sire," he said. Arthur smiled understandingly, clapping a supporting hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Keep it up," the king said simply. With one last grin, Arthur strolled away, leaving a very satisfied knight behind him.

* * *

"And thus convenes the first council of… Has anybody thought up a name yet?"

Gwaine sat at a small square table, addressing the rest of the group in a mockingly imperious way. To his right sat Percival, across from him was Merlin, and on Merlin's left sat Mordred. Merlin and Mordred were chuckling amusedly at him, while Percival rolled his eyes in a rather long-suffering way.

"You're being ridiculous, Gwaine. As always," Percival said dryly. "I can't believe I even agreed to come to this."

"Aw, come now, Percival! Quit your whining!" cried Gwaine, slapping his friend enthusiastically on the back. "You know you want to be here, there's no use denying it."

"Forget _you_ lot. I'm the one who's taking a real risk being here," interjected Merlin teasingly. "If Arthur knew about this, I bet he wouldn't pay me for at least a week. Maybe a _month_."

"Yes, but," Mordred countered with a smirk, "unlike _you_, the rest of us could be subjected to a _beating_ on the training field. Clearly we're risking more."

"As if," Merlin snorted, meeting Mordred's bright eyes. "Arthur beats on me too, just not on the training field, that's all."

Mordred chuckled and Merlin smiled back. "Very well, point taken."

"Can we please get down to business?" asked Gwaine. Merlin and Mordred obligingly silenced themselves and turned their attentions towards Gwaine. "Thank you. Now then! As you all know, we have gathered today to put our brains together and come up with the ultimate prank to pull on our beloved King Arthur."

"I still think you're insane," commented Percival. "Honestly. You understand Arthur has the authority to chop off your head, don't you?"

Gwaine scowled. "And does that sound like something Arthur would do? Now, _my_ opinion is that we should strike fast and hard, while-"

"You make it sound like we're waging _war_ against him!" cried Mordred.

"Oh, we are," answered Merlin. "Don't underestimate the seriousness of a prank war."

"I hardly could, considering the display _you_ put on when Gwaine dared to pull one on _you_."

"Exactly. And now that Arthur's-"

"_Gentlemen_," intoned Gwaine with heavy exasperation. Merlin and Mordred both smirked, and again turned their attention back towards him. "As I was _saying_, I say we strike soon, while Arthur's good mood still lasts."

"Why?" asked Percival, his brow drawing together. "Why should we want to sully his spirits?"

"That's just the thing. I don't think we _will_," explained Gwaine. "I think that now is the _perfect_ time to pull a harmless prank. He's in such a good mood that he won't even retaliate!"

"I agree with Gwaine," the manservant chimed in. "With the way Arthur's been lately, I think he's much less inclined to react badly to something like that."

"Well then it's settled," Gwaine declared.

"Who made _you_ in charge?" muttered Percival rebelliously, but Gwaine ignored him and continued on, "Now. Does anyone have any special ideas of a trick to play on our poor unsuspecting king?"

The group of four all paused in silence, thinking. After a moment, a sneaky grin snuck onto Merlin's lips. Mordred smiled just at seeing it.

"As a matter of fact," said Merlin. "There's something I'd like to do. For a bit of long overdue payback, I think."

* * *

After the meeting adjourned, Gwaine and Percival left the room first, speaking to each other as they walked off. As Merlin made to follow them out, Mordred lightly grabbed his sleeve. Merlin turned to him.

"Can we talk about this?" asked Mordred quietly.

Merlin's head tilted slightly to the side in a gesture of genuine confusion. "About _what_?"

"About… everything that's happened lately. Between us. What we have now."

Merlin tensed. "I don't… think so, no."

"Merlin, we must talk about it at some-"

"Why?" Merlin asked, cutting him off sharply. "Why do we have to talk about it? Can't we just… leave it? Alone? Everything's… fine. Let's just… keep like this. What's the matter with that?"

"I don't understand why you won't give me a chance."

"You _don't_?"

"I mean…" Mordred sighed. "I do. I don't mean- I meant-"

"I can't trust you, Mordred," said the warlock. "I just can't. That's what you want from me. And I can't give it to you. Please stop asking."

"It's because of my destiny, isn't it?" asked Mordred, his voice tight. "My fate."

"And what you did with _Morgana_," Merlin exclaimed.

"Even so. If you'd never heard a word of my destiny, if my past with Morgana was all that lay between us, would you give me another chance to earn back your trust?"

"I don't… I don't know. Maybe?"

"Then _forget _about destiny," hissed Mordred, stepping closer to the older man. The air between them sizzled with tension, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I don't give a damn about it. About _any_ of it. I give that up, _willingly_. For Arthur. For _you_. _All I want_… is you. Please, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes were big, and he seemed stunned into silence.

"That's what you wanted all along, isn't it?" asked Mordred, gentler now. "From the very beginning. Do you think I didn't know your intentions? You knew of my destiny then, from the start, and you loved me still, wanting to change my path."

"And you made it clear to me that I failed," snapped Merlin.

"But you _didn't_!" Mordred cried, trying to make his words stick. "Don't you see? It only… it may have taken longer than you wished for. But I'm here. Now. Doing just what you wanted. Giving up everything for you. For us. What more can I do to prove myself to you? Just tell me, and I'll do it."

Once more, Merlin was speechless. His heart was racing and his skin tingled with the desire to _touch_ and to _claim_. He was drowning in the passionate depths of Mordred's blue eyes.

"I-" he stuttered. Sucking in a breath, Merlin tried to keep a clear head, difficult though it was with Mordred still standing so close. "I don't… know." Mordred released an unhappy huff. "I don't _know_ what you could do to prove any of this to me. I wish I _did_. I do. I just-"

Mordred couldn't take it anymore. His body was clamoring to reach out to the man standing in front of him, and he caved in to the desire just a bit, his hand reaching up to cup Merlin's cheek, his thumb brushing softly against Merlin's smooth skin. With a sigh, Merlin instinctively pressed his cheek into the hand holding it, craving the touch. In a way, the cool palm against his skin helped clear his thoughts.

"Give me time to think about this," he said calmly. Mordred's jaw tensed, but he nodded his understanding. "In the meantime, we need to establish some ground rules." Mordred's brow furrowed. "First…" Merlin reached up a hand and, though it pained him to do so, grabbed Mordred's hand and drew it away from his face. "No touching." He squeezed Mordred's hand and then released it. The younger man visibly winced. "And more importantly, you can't say that you love me."

"But why-"

"Just for now," said Merlin firmly. "Do this for me. Just until I've had time to sort it all out."

Sighing, Mordred smiled sadly at him. "As you wish."

* * *

Merlin had a great deal to think about, and thoughts of Mordred occupied much of his time for the next day. A part of Merlin refused to give in to his desires, refused to ignore destiny and fate and Morgana… and then a part of Merlin no longer had the strength to fight. Why should he deny himself the greatest happiness in the world just because something bad _could_ happen, something that his deepest instincts were telling him _wouldn't_ happen?

Because he trusted Mordred. He did. And he trusted in their love for each other. And it was becoming harder and harder to remember why he should deny himself that.

Even so, Merlin pushed aside all such thoughts as the appointed time rolled around. He allowed himself to focus on nothing but the task at hand.

* * *

"In the _stables_?" Arthur asked disbelievingly.

Merlin nodded frantically. "Arthur, it's urgent, please." Merlin quickly set off in the direction of the stables.

"I don't see what sort of emergency in the stables could possibly require _my_ attention," Arthur complained, even as he followed. "Surely there are others better equipped to deal with such things. Yourself included."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but hurried on, reassured by the fact that Arthur followed him despite the lack of any further explanation. When they reached the stables, Merlin stepped to the side and held out his arm, gesturing forcefully for Arthur to go in. Arthur shook his head in annoyance, but did so, striding into the dim stables without a second thought.

"Merlin." Merlin held his breath in anticipation. Just a few more steps… Arthur's head turned round to look at his manservant, but he continued walking forward. "What exactly am I supposed to be-"

The king cut off as his feet tripped over something that his eyes hadn't spotted being moved into his path. With all the grace of a bear on tightrope, Arthur tumbled to the ground, where he landed in a strategically placed pile of manure.

Peals of laughter split the air as Arthur slowly brought himself back up to his feet. Merlin's pearly whites showed in a grand smile, and three other men had melted out from the shadows, all chortling together. The laughter only increased as Arthur turned around towards his friends, the brown substance caked all over his clothes and, of course, face. Arthur's expression didn't change at all as he began to wipe the manure off his face. To the best of his abilities, at least. Mostly he succeeded only in smearing it about.

"Told you you were fair game, Arthur," Gwaine commented, a smirk in his voice. Suddenly, Arthur found himself gasping, drenched in freezing water, courtesy of Gwaine, Mordred, and Merlin, all three of whom were lowering now empty buckets. At least the water had washed away most of the manure.

"There, see?" Gwaine said brightly. Arthur glowered at him. "No harm, no foul! Well, it does smell a _little_ foul-"

"Nah, that's just Arthur," corrected Merlin. Gwaine and Mordred unsuccessfully fought smiles as Arthur scowled at them.

"All right, come on, you lot," Percival scolded, walking over to the king. "You really ought to treat the King of Camelot better than this."

"_Thank_ you, Percival," exclaimed Arthur, both frustrated and exasperated. "At least _some_one-"

He fell silent as a bucket of water was emptied right over his head, a feat only the tallest knight in the room could have accomplished.

"You completely missed the top of his head!" finished Percival, grinning. The group of friends laughed again, enjoying the way Arthur pursed his lips, clearly displeased.

"Sire, I would just like you to know…" Arthur met Mordred's gaze, expecting some bogus claim that Mordred hadn't been involved, or had tried to dissuade them from the idea. As if Arthur would swallow _that._ "…you're looking better than ever." Arthur's jaw dropped in shock, while the others broke into appreciative giggles. Mordred's blue eyes twinkled. "Might I suggest you make this a permanent addition to your attire?"

There was a brief pause in the flow of conversation as the four perpetrators of the crime laughed and Arthur composed himself as much as possible. Finally, looking as calm as ever, and as kingly as possible given the circumstances, Arthur said,

"Merlin?"

Choking a bit on his laughter, Merlin coughed, the slightest bit nervous, and responded, "Uh, yes, Arthur?" The room pulsed with anticipation as everyone watched Arthur, keen to hear what he would say. Arthur's calm expression didn't budge, though Merlin would swear that there was a light in his eyes, the tiniest indication of trouble.

"If you can assist me in seeking due revenge on all three of these most _noble_ knights by the end of the week…" Arthur proclaimed. The three knights in question were already paling. "…I will both forgive your part in this _and_ double your wages for the month."

A week later, Gwaine had fidgeted his way through most of a banquet before giving up and running out, scratching his bum embarrassingly as he did so, yelling that the itch was just _too much_, Percival had screamed and fled when a large unidentified black creature (that he learned later was a bat) erupted into his face as he was taking a leak, and then ran out into the hallways of the castle with his breeches down, Mordred had practically gagged on a dessert in which the sugar had been swapped with salt, before chugging down his drink and the drinks of those around him, and Merlin took home with him a sizable bag of money and a triumphant grin.


	26. The Walking Wounded

_Author's Note: Goodness. Thank you so much to my reviewers from the last chapter! Another wonderful response. It means a lot, you guys. A big big thank you to Susana31082 who is amazing and who created the cover for this story that you now see. I love it! WARNING: Spoilers for S5E10._

* * *

"Let me help you with that."

Mordred smiled, and turned to face the manservant entering his room. As Merlin reached him, Mordred said, "I thought perhaps you would no longer assist me out of my armor."

"Why not?" asked Merlin, as he took away the cape and gloves.

"I thought… you wanted distance."

"No, I just want time to think things through," corrected Merlin, helping him off with his chainmail now. "But I see no reason to ignore you or anything. In fact, it wouldn't really be fair to my decision making process."

"If you say so."

"As long as you don't break either of the rules, I'm happy to go on as we have been. Like this."

Merlin turned back to Mordred, who was now clad only in a loose white shirt and breeches. Their eyes met, and Mordred offered a smile.

"Of course," he agreed. "I'm glad to do anything I can to help."

A quiet smile spread across Merlin's lips. "I must admit, your patience amazes me, Mordred. I've no idea how you manage to remain so… calm and agreeable."

"Some things are worth the wait," was the knight's simple reply. The blue of Merlin's eyes glimmered. The warlock nodded, then turned to go.

"You don't-" Merlin paused and turned back. Mordred bit his tongue shyly against the words that had burst out without meaning to.

"Yes?" asked the manservant, looking amused.

"I just… wanted to say that… you don't _have _to go. You're welcome to stay, if you would like."

"What for? I've finished my chore of undressing you," teased Merlin. A relieved smile and huff came from Mordred. If Merlin was teasing him, then he clearly hadn't overstepped a boundary. Sure enough, Merlin walked several paces back towards him.

The two sorcerers stared at each other—luckily not too uncomfortably—neither knowing quite what to say, how to start conversation.

"Oh," burst Merlin suddenly, a thought occurring to him. He smiled sheepishly. "I wanted to say sorry about the, uh, salt in your dessert."

Mordred's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't been expecting _that_. He laughed brightly. "You very well _should_ apologize," he teased. "In my attempt to drown the taste from my mouth, I consumed more wine in one night than I've ever done before. My head was buzzing quite strangely by the end of the meal."

Now it was Merlin's turn to laugh. "Sorry about that. It wasn't my intention. Though I hardly knew you had such low tolerance for liquor."

"Neither did I. Until that night."

"Arthur's offer was just too good a deal to give up," justified Merlin, still smirking. Mordred chuckled again.

"No need to worry, Merlin. I do not truly hold it against you. Having suffered slightly for one night is well worth it to see Arthur so happy," he admitted. Merlin nodded his agreement.

"Yeah. It's a nice change. In fact, Arthur's decided to take Gwen on a picnic tomorrow, in celebration of their anniversary."

"But tomorrow isn't their-"

"Gwen was under Morgana's spell when they celebrated their _real_ one," explained Merlin. Understanding dawned on Mordred's expression. "Arthur wants to have another one where, you know, they're both themselves."

"Am I to assume that you will be accompanying them on this anniversary picnic, as you accompanied them on their anniversary ride?" asked Mordred, his lips curled in amusement. Merlin grinned back.

"Of course!" he confirmed. "You know Arthur can't get along without me. Honestly, I can't even _begin_ to fathom how he managed before I came to Camelot. Do you know that he can't even dress himself?" Mordred merely stared at him, dumbstruck. "I mean, seriously, honestly can't dress himself without help, not just the way that you _pretend_ to be unable of undressing without me."

"The king never ceases to astound me," said Mordred finally, his expression still stunned, but glee dancing in his lively blue eyes.

Merlin gave another sassy grin, and then said, "I should probably go. Actual chores to do." Mordred nodded, and Merlin strolled away, about to leave.

As Merlin reached the door, he paused, turning back.

"Thank you."

Mordred's eyebrows rose slightly. "What for?"

"I don't know, just… being yourself," answered Merlin with a crooked grin. Heat rose to Mordred's cheeks at the unexpected compliment, and he found he could think of nothing to say in return. It seemed that Merlin required no response, as he then turned again and left the room.

* * *

It was about midday when the refugees arrived. Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen were gone on their picnic, so the task of command fell to Sir Leon. It was lucky indeed for the knights that Sir Leon was such a natural leader. He managed to get the story of what had happened from the refugees, then divided tasks among the knights, such as bringing food, blankets, or helping the injured.

Mordred was assigned, along with Percival, to assist Gaius in any capacity possible.

They had moved all of the wounded to a small room within the castle that was used for such purposes on rare occasion. Thankfully, the numbers of those injured were low, as there hadn't been many refugees in total. Even so, the room was filled with the stench of sweat and blood, and the noises of crying infants and moaning patients were almost too loud to bear. Still, Mordred did his duty, rushing about on errands, fetching bandages, water, herbs, anything that Gaius requested.

When Mordred spared a moment to see how Percival was faring, a soft smile spread across his face. Percival was seated, settled in amongst a small crowd of children. He was murmuring to them, keeping them calm and content as many of their parents were tended to. He was a natural with them.

Evidently feeling Mordred's gaze, Percival looked up and met his eyes. Mordred increased the stretch of his smile, hoping his friend could see the admiration in his expression. Percival returned the gentle smile with one of his own, giving the younger knight a respectful nod.

Hearing a call from Gaius, Mordred returned to work.

* * *

When Arthur did return shortly after, he met with many of the knights in the council chambers to discuss the situation. Leon had, by this time, established enough order that many of the knights were no longer needed to keep a handle on the situation. A small number only were left to keep watch over the refugees, and Mordred and Percival were asked to continue helping Gaius care for the wounded.

Mordred was somewhat displeased to miss the council meeting, but Percival seemed rather happy, in his own quiet way, to be allowed to stay with the children who had clearly become attached to him. Even when Percival had to move around to help out, the children trailed after him like ducklings. It was actually rather sweet, Mordred thought.

Not long after, it could have been no more than another half hour, Mordred was relieved to hear Gaius say that they'd done all they could for the time being.

The physician packed up his things and made for his own chambers.

* * *

Merlin and Gaius sat together at the table, examining and discussing the trinket that Merlin had found in the woods. Merlin still didn't know exactly what had happened at the site he'd found, but he knew it was nothing good, and he was determined to go back and find more out.

"You're not suggesting that Morgana is within Camelot's borders?" Gaius asked.

"Who else could it be?" Merlin returned, getting his bag together.

"Don't go, Merlin, not on your own."

"I'll be fine," Merlin brushed aside the physician's concerns.

"Take someone with you at least," requested Gaius worriedly. "If it _is_ Morgana-"

"Then it won't _make_ any difference who I take, will it," answered Merlin. This wasn't strictly true, but Merlin turned and left before Gaius could call him out on it, or before Merlin himself changed his mind.

The smartest thing to do would be to take Mordred. The druid knight was the only person who could possibly make a difference in a confrontation with Morgana. In fact, taking Mordred would probably all but ensure his safety.

Merlin's steps faltered on the steps outside Gaius' chambers. He couldn't deny that all this was true. Perhaps he _should_ go seek Mordred's-

No. Merlin set his mind firmly against it and set off again. The extra protection would be nice, but nothing would happen! He would be fine. He could handle himself.

What he _couldn't_ handle was being alone with Mordred for an indeterminate amount of time in the woods. Merlin still hadn't made any permanent decision about how their relationship would progress from here, but he didn't trust himself to be alone with Mordred in that capacity. There was too much desire within him; he simply knew that he'd do something stupid, that he'd regret. It was just easier if he went alone, and spared himself the internal war that would almost certainly accompany taking such a trip with the man he loved.

* * *

Once Percival had promised the children to come back soon and see them, he and Mordred left together, discussing their own thoughts on the attack.

"You heard them," Percival said as they strolled down a corridor inside the castle. "They said there was magic involved. Who else could that mean but Morgana?"

"I still do not understand it," protested Mordred. "What purpose would that serve her? Is not magic practiced freely in Helva?"

"She may not need a reason to destroy homes and lives."

"Perhaps, but I still think-"

Percival kept walking as he waited for Mordred to continue. After a second, he turned and realized with a start that Mordred was no longer keeping pace beside him. His friend had stopped, and was now standing by a window, his gaze directed down into the courtyard. A small crease was in his brow, and something heavy weighed in his eyes.

Curious, Percival took two steps back to Mordred's side, and looked out the window. When he saw Merlin settling himself on a horse's back, and then swiftly galloping away, Percival found that he was somehow both surprised and not surprised.

Percival turned his eyes to Mordred, but the young knight was still gazing out at where Merlin had disappeared from sight.

"Something on your mind?" asked Percival, tilting his head to get Mordred's attention. Mordred jolted slightly, embarrassed, seeming to have forgotten that he wasn't alone.

"No," he said quickly, "Nothing of importance." He smiled innocently. "Only wondering where Merlin is off to, at such a time."

"And that's all?" asked Percival pointedly, folding his arms. Mordred nodded, smile still plastered on his face.

"Yes. I'm sorry for becoming distracted. What were we discussing?"

Mordred began to walk again, clearly determined to bluff his way out of the situation. Percival followed him. He had to admit, Mordred put on an impressively good act. If Percival were any less confident in his own intuitions, he'd be inclined to believe Mordred's reply.

As it was, instead of answering the question, Percival announced bluntly, "I know how much it hurts."

Shocked, Mordred's wide eyes turned to Percival questioningly. The tall knight gave him a friendly, sympathetic smile.

"I don't… What do you mean?" asked Mordred.

"Love can be a terrible thing," was Percival's response. Mordred became even more flustered, his cheeks reddening in a way Percival had never seen before. "I know that it's supposed to be something wonderful, beautiful. But no one tells you the whole truth of it. The sting of it. The heartbreak of loving someone who doesn't know. Or who knows but can't return it."

Mordred remained perfectly silent. He was at an utter loss. It was obvious that Percival had inferred Mordred's feelings for Merlin. He was right enough about it. But should Mordred come clean? Or pretend he knew nothing about what Percival meant?

"You don't have to confirm it, but don't try to deny it either," Percival said firmly. "I saw that look in your eyes while you watched him. I know that look too well to be fooled by any feeble denial you may make."

Finally, Mordred grasped onto a fact that should have been quite obvious from the start. "Something you've experience with, then?"

Percival stared straight ahead. "A good deal of experience, at that."

"Tis someone you love still," guessed Mordred. When Percival turned his eyes back towards him, they were sad.

"Such is my curse," he joked. But then a genuine smile came across his face again. "But I'm glad you don't share it."

Puzzled, Mordred said, "What do you mean? You saw for yourself that I _do_ share it."

"My curse is to love someone, every day, probably for the rest of my life, who will never share those feelings." Mordred's heart twisted with deep sympathy, but he couldn't help but to respect the way that Percival spoke these words with such strength, as though he were merely reciting facts, rather than admitting to being doomed to a one-sided love for the rest of his days. "But you, Mordred… it's different for you. I can see it."

"See what?"

"That he loves you."

It was like a punch to the gut, sucking the air from Mordred's lungs. But strangely, it still left his heart warm and tingling.

"Perhaps he doesn't know it yet, but he will. And he'll come round."

"You truly believe so?" Mordred couldn't have stopped the words from emerging if he'd tried, desperate and pitiful though they were. Percival smiled and halted. When Mordred halted beside him, he reached out and squeezed Mordred's shoulder kindly.

"I do," he answered simply. "So don't be too sad." Percival raised his eyebrows, a nonverbal question, _Do you understand_? Chuckling just the slightest bit, Mordred nodded his head with a smile. Percival grinned and suddenly ruffled Mordred's hair some, drawing a surprised laugh from the shorter man.

"Thank you, Percival," said Mordred as they set to walking again, "for always looking after me."

"My pleasure," he answered with a grin. They were quiet for another moment.

"Percival…"

"Mmm?"

"Whom do you love?"

There was a pause.

"Someone who'll never know."

And Mordred said nothing more about it.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and fair. The air was warm and the sun shone down uninhibited by clouds. The appearance of the refugees yesterday, and then Merlin's ride off for some unknown reason, had left Mordred unsettled, but his conversation with Percival had warmed his heart again and raised his spirits. So when he woke to such a beautiful day, Mordred found himself in a delightful mood.

For most of the morning, Mordred sat at his table, charcoal in hand, sketching a new picture of Merlin to add to the growing collection. His skill at the art hadn't diminished any; it had only grown better over the months. When the druid gazed down at the perfect finished piece of Merlin giving a quirky grin while holding Mordred's folded cape, he could feel his heart pound a little harder. He smiled.

Afternoon came, and Mordred made his way to training. Percival and Leon were already there, fully dressed, and he greeted them with a smile.

"Where's Gwaine?" he inquired as he began to ready himself for the training session.

"Hung over, no doubt," replied Leon dryly. "He had a bit much to drink last night."

"He has a bit much to drink _every_ night," Percival corrected lightly. Mordred laughed, and a corner of Percival's mouth pulled up in a sassy grin.

Suddenly, an idea struck the youngest knight. Feeling spectacularly devious, he made his way from his own changing area to Gwaine's.

* * *

Merlin had had every intention of telling Mordred about their discovery that Morgana attacked Helva for the sole purpose of capturing Alator. He honestly had. It was the sort of important information that Merlin shared with his younger friend these days. The warlock planned to visit Mordred's rooms before the afternoon training, and tell him about it then.

That was before he met a mysterious sorceress while picking flowers early in the morning. A woman who called him Emrys, and who claimed that, "Arthur's enemies are closer than you think." The words sent a chill to Merlin's heart.

But… he _trusted_ Mordred.

But clearly he _didn't_ if Mordred was his first and only thought.

It wasn't until this moment that Merlin finally realized how close he'd been to taking Mordred back. The thought, the feeling, had been brewing in the back of his mind for days. Somehow, without fully recognizing it, he'd decided to trust Mordred. He'd decided that his instincts, the ones telling him that Mordred was purely good, were right. And he'd decided to slip back into the most natural relationship with Mordred, the one that would make them both happiest. Namely, a romantic one.

Until one, thus far nameless, sorceress planted the latest seed of doubt in him, conclusively proving to Merlin that he would never trust Mordred with all his heart, mind, and soul. And it all fell to ruin.

Merlin wished he were too tired to feel yet more pain over Mordred.

He doubted he'd ever be tired enough for that to be true.

* * *

"What are you doing?" asked Percival curiously. Mordred grinned.

"I was just thinking, for all that Gwaine was the first to play pranks on all of us, he never really received his full comeuppance."

"And?" The interest of the other two knights was definitely piqued.

Mordred chuckled. "Nothing serious. I just feel like having a bit of fun with him."

That said, Mordred grabbed Gwaine's armguards and immediately began creeping through the room, looking for a good hiding place. When he'd tucked them away somewhere suitable, he turned back around.

The young man gave a bright laugh when he saw that Percival had stolen Gwaine's helmet, and was now hanging it atop an upright spear, high enough that it would be a struggle for Gwaine to retrieve it.

Footsteps became audible from the direction of the hallway. With a number of shared smirks and chuckles and pointless "_Shhh!_"s, the three knights all returned to their own spots, acting innocent of any mischief. When Gwaine entered the room, Percival was tightening his own belt, Leon was pulling on his gloves, and Mordred was fastening his armguards, all innocuously.

"Afternoon," Gwaine greeted them all. A chorus of murmured greetings, smiles and nods echoed back to him.

Gwaine marched over to his area, then stopped. His brow furrowed in confusion as he gazed at the spot where several items were clearly missing. The other three glanced surreptitiously his way as he silently turned about in a circle, surveying the room with obvious confusion, but saying nothing.

"Now where on earth could I have…" Gwaine muttered to himself. Still confused, Gwaine began to walk around the room, searching, while trying to look casual so the others wouldn't realize what he was doing.

After a minute of restraining himself, Percival asked loudly, "You looking for something, Gwaine?" in a tone that sounded genuinely interested and willing to help. Mordred only stifled a laugh by biting down on his hand.

Gwaine snapped up straight from where he'd been stooped over, now looking distinctly embarrassed.

"No, not at all! I'm good. Thanks, Percival," he answered with a falsely confident grin. He turned away from his friend quickly, which was lucky for Percival, as he had to immediately tuck his head down to hide an amused smile.

It took several more minutes for Gwaine to locate his hidden armguards, and even when he did, he merely grabbed them and returned quickly to his spot, putting them on hurriedly. It was obvious he hadn't yet pieced together the pieces of the puzzle. Mordred could only imagine how confused he had to be. If he hadn't managed to figure it out, what could he possibly be thinking was the cause? Ghosts? Gremlins? Placing them there _himself_ in a drunken state?

It was only after putting on his belt that Gwaine turned about and spotted his helmet hanging on the spear. He was struck dumb for a moment, before finally he understood.

His three friends broke into long-restrained laughs as Gwaine glared at them each in turn, his hands on his hips.

"You all nearly had me convinced I was going mad!" he cried. They only responded with more laughter.

At this point, Merlin entered the room. Apparently of the opinion that it wasn't worth his time, Merlin ignored them all and set about his own tasks, looking rather withdrawn from the rest of the world. Mordred spared one moment to worry over what could be on Merlin's mind, and why he didn't simply confide in Mordred about it, before he turned his attention back to the show in front of him, only a vague sense of uneasiness remaining within him.

Gwaine stomped over to the row of spears and stretched his arms as much as he could. It wasn't enough to reach the helmet. Clenching his jaw, Gwaine reached out to pull the spear from its place, to bring the helmet down to him.

"Hold on, hold on," interrupted Percival. Grinning kindly, Percival walked over to join him. "Here, I'll get it."

Only, when Percival _did_ retrieve the helmet, instead of handing it to Gwaine, he tossed it to Leon. The three knights began to laugh again, and started a game of Keep The Helmet Away From Gwaine.

"It's not funny," Gwaine told them, thoroughly unamused.

"It's not funny at all," Leon, who was in possession of the helmet, agreed, before throwing it to Mordred.

"No one is laughing. It's just childish."

"You're right," Mordred said contritely, failing to notice as the king entered the room. "It's stupid. Here."

He extended the helmet towards Gwaine, then threw it to Percival. The helmet was tossed next to Leon, with Gwaine unsuccessfully attempting to snatch it from the air, then to Mordred. Instead of Mordred catching the helmet, however, the throw ended with the helmet in Arthur's arms.

"Gentlemen," he greeted neutrally. The three knights who had been teasing Gwaine suddenly felt sheepish and nervous before their disapproving king.

"Uh, we were just, we-" Percival stuttered.

"No matter," Arthur cut him off. They waited for him to return the item to Gwaine. He even made to do so. Then, at the last second, he turned and threw the helmet to Percival. The guilty parties chuckled their surprise. Mordred wondered if this was Arthur's own small payback for Gwaine starting the war that landed him in a heap of manure.

"Mordred." The king called the druid's attention away from his amusing ponderings. He happily followed as Arthur drew him aside. "I have a task for you. There is an important mission that I would like you to take head on."

"Me, my lord?" asked Mordred, slightly stunned with happiness. Arthur nodded kindly. "Tis an honor. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. You've earned it," Arthur assured him.

"What is the mission?"

"Gaius has given me warning of a dangerous sorceress living within Camelot," divulged Arthur. At these words, Mordred's eyes widened with shock. Arthur noticed this and nodded grimly. "I know."

_No, you don't_, thought Mordred immediately. It was clear that Arthur thought he was in shock at the news of a sorceress (who was, of course, evil, in Arthur's mind) residing within Camelot, when in truth he was shocked to hear that such a report came from _Gaius_. It made no sense for Gaius to turn in a sorceress, unless…

"She is said to practice her magic at night, in the darkling woods by the ruined temple of Erui. I want you to go there tonight, take with you five other knights, and find her. If possible, arrest her. But if necessary…" Arthur trailed off, but his meaning was clear. "Do you think you can handle this, Mordred? Please, be honest if you don't."

"I can handle it, sire," Mordred assured. "I will be glad to."

And the truth was that he would. If Gaius was reporting a sorceress, it could mean only one thing. She was truly dangerous. Likely even an ally of Morgana's. Mordred was more than happy to deal with any such threat.

_I am glad the mission is set upon Gaius' word_, Mordred thought to himself later that evening. _Else, I could not in good conscience have done this. If the tip had come from any other, I would do everything in my power to _fail_ my mission, and to help the sorceress escape. But Gaius has only the best interests of Camelot, and Arthur, and Merlin at heart. I trust his judgment. I will do what I can to catch this woman._

Mordred wondered if he should tell Merlin of Arthur's latest assignment, both to hear Merlin's opinion on it and to, hopefully, receive congratulations on his accomplishment (being allowed to lead the mission).

After a few minutes of thinking, Mordred decided against it. Seeing as the tip came from Gaius, Merlin no doubt knew of it already. And there was still the lingering uneasiness from earlier. Clearly Merlin was keeping something from him. So the part of Mordred that would naturally open up and tell Merlin everything couldn't help shutting down.

Just for this one occasion.


	27. Communication

_Author's Note: Guys. _Guys._ First of all, do you see how quickly I updated? Aren't you proud of me? Yeah, well, just don't get used to it ;P Second of all, I'm discovering a problem. The more Percival I write, the more Percival feelings I have. Crazy, I know. Anyways, in all seriousness, thank you to everyone reading my story. My biggest thanks to all those who take the time to stop and review. Each and every one fills me with joy. You are appreciated. WARNING: Spoilers for episode 5.10._

* * *

Sneaking out of the castle wasn't too hard. Merlin's pulse increased slightly as he passed the guards, but he was out of the citadel and into the woods soon enough. He went straight to the ruined temple, where the woman had said to meet her.

When he drew close, Merlin could see that her back faced him. Attempting caution, he crept forward quietly, watching the sorceress for any signs of foul play.

Evidently she sensed his presence, as she quickly turned. Kneeling, she greeted him, with clear admiration. "Great one."

Merlin stepped out from the wall, and now smiled kindly, feeling an odd mix of amusement, embarrassment, and pride at her address. "Please, that's not necessary," he assured her. It did make him feel good, but only to hear it the once. Any more than that would merely be uncomfortable. He wasn't so "great", not really.

In very little time, the sorceress disclosed her reason for seeking Merlin out. It seemed that she was not working for Morgana, as Gaius had feared, but Alator. Merlin's instincts had served him well. She warned him of the battle nearing, and told him, "Only you, great Emrys, can ensure the triumph of the Once and Future King."

"How do I do that?" asked Merlin.

Before she could respond, her eyes went wide, catching sight of something behind him. Merlin needed only a brief glance back to recognize the threat.

Knights of Camelot. Perfect.

"Quickly!" the woman urged, pulling him away. As they ran, Merlin heard the stomping of men chasing after them, and then,

"_Seize them_!" someone cried loudly.

Merlin nearly stopped cold at the familiar voice, the voice he'd know absolutely anywhere, that was now sending a rush of fear and sadness through him.

Mordred.

* * *

In the dark, Mordred could make out nothing more than two dark shapes. _Two_. Not one.

Silently he cursed to himself, but he knew that his orders still stood. He couldn't turn his men back simply because there were two sorcerers rather than one.

_Or perhaps only one wields sorcery, _Mordred thought, hopeful, as he bellowed the order for his men to seize them. _Either way, they are doubtless both allies of Morgana. If I must, I shall use my own magic to apprehend them. _Mordred, with his men, quickly gave chase. The forest floor raced by beneath his feet, the air whistled past his ears, and his eyes peered through the gloom, searching for human shapes.

One of the knights was blown off his feet, the clear work of sorcery. While a few halted to help him, Mordred and the others raced to press on.

Mordred spotted her. He didn't know where the other one had gone, but there was the sorceress, the one he'd been ordered to arrest, and she was running away. But not nearly fast enough. Mordred prepared to subtly trip her with his magic, so that he and his men could easily catch her.

Then suddenly, a wall of fire roared into being just in front of Mordred and his men. Mordred pulled up short, in shock, and the others did the same. This was _serious _magic, _very_ powerful. Squinting against the light and heat, Mordred felt his heart pounding at the realization that now slammed into his brain.

The figure he hadn't been able to make out, the person with the sorceress, was Merlin. There was no other explanation. This magic had the distinct feel of Merlin's sorcery. Mordred could feel it in his very bones.

Through the flames, Mordred saw a second person—one that he could now identify even though little more than his outline was visible—running away. Mordred made no move to stop him. He was struck to the core with guilt, and fear, and confusion. If Merlin was with this woman, and protecting her no less, then… she couldn't be evil, as he'd thought. But then… why would Gaius…?

His thoughts were mush. Somehow, Mordred pulled himself together enough to gather the attention of his men, and declare their failure. One of the men protested strongly, insisting that they should continue the chase, but Mordred was firm. The knight could do nothing but relent. Mordred wasn't going to chase Merlin, nor would he let anyone else do so. Merlin and the sorceress were to go free. Even if he'd _wanted_ to catch them, Mordred knew that the knights had no chance. And he didn't want to catch them anyways.

The knights, all rather subdued, returned to Camelot.

* * *

_Merlin?_

The warlock groaned. He'd only just returned to his own bed, after running through the woods, and sneaking back into the citadel, and then into his own chambers, and past Gaius. He was exhausted from the night's drama, and only wanted to sleep.

_Please, Mordred, not now_, he thought tiredly.

_Why did you not tell me?_ The voice sounded as tired as Merlin felt, and yet the wounded tone was also unmistakable. Merlin grit his teeth. He simply didn't have the energy for this conversation. His brain wasn't functional enough to be clever and talk himself out of this. He couldn't very well tell the truth. That he hadn't told Mordred because he'd begun to doubt again, and had in fact gone to the sorceress, Finna, to discover a way to protect Arthur from Mordred himself.

_I saw no need to,_ he answered shortly. There was a long pause. Merlin fancied that he could actually _hear_ how intently Mordred was thinking.

_I see_, was the simple reply, when it finally came. Merlin waited to see if Mordred would follow this with anything, praying that he wouldn't. The gods, it seemed, were listening, because the voice on the other end stayed silent.

Sighing, Merlin turned onto his side and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

"I'm afraid she managed to evade us and make her escape," Mordred finished his report.

Arthur was displeased.

"You _saw_ her, but you _lost_ her," he repeated.

"She used magic, sire," justified Mordred, having no intention of mentioning that it was actually someone else who had used magic. Or that someone else had even been present.

He still didn't understand what was going on, and he couldn't deny that he was badly hurt by his brief conversation with Merlin last night, but he would still protect Merlin's secret. Even if, for whatever reason, Merlin had decided not to trust him again, Mordred would still do all he could for Merlin's sake.

"Even so, there are how many of you, six? Against one old woman."

"There were two of them, sire," corrected Leon. Mordred felt a surge of annoyance at the older knight.

_It couldn't have been avoided_, he told himself, attempting to stifle that unkind gut reaction.

"Oh, well, that _explains_ it," was the king's sarcastic response. Leon shifted unhappily. Merlin felt a pang of sympathy for the loyal knight. It was hardly Leon's fault that Arthur was too ignorant in this matter to understand that the knights had never stood a chance.

Arthur seemed to realize he was being harsh, as his tone was less belittling when he then asked, "Mordred, who was the other?"

Merlin stiffened, his blood running cold. He was tempted to send out a telepathic _Please_, but stifled the thought. Mordred had never betrayed him before. Surely he wouldn't start now. Asking might very well just insult and upset him.

"We couldn't see," answered Mordred easily. Merlin felt his heart grow both lighter and heavier in a way he couldn't even conceive. "But they were in earnest conversation, sire, that much we _could_ tell."

"All right, send out a second patrol," Arthur ordered. "Seal off the ford at Greinton and alert the border garrisons. They must be found and brought to trial."

"Sire," Mordred confirmed, and the knights turned to leave the chamber.

It was only when they'd gone that Merlin noticed a sense of wrongness that had lingered inside of him throughout the course of the meeting. Confused, he tried to think where the feeling came from. It wasn't his severe unhappiness at the meeting existing in the first place because Gaius had betrayed him, ignored him. He could identify _that_ specific frustration easily enough. There was something else as well.

Then he realized. He couldn't remember the last time that he and Mordred had both attended a similar meeting without speaking at least once telepathically. It was utterly routine for them. At least, during the times when they were friends and/or lovers.

Could it be that those days were gone for good?

Later, upon much reflection and internal warring, Merlin came to a decision. There was no need to be dramatic just yet. Yes, Finna's vague warning had unsettled him, had made him question his belief in Mordred. But thus far, it _was_ only a vague warning. It was still entirely possible that she didn't mean Mordred. And until she confirmed it as such, there was no reason for Merlin to assume it.

Just to be careful, however, he would tell Mordred nothing about all this for the time being. Just until he'd spoken with the sorceress again, and uncovered the whole truth of it. Merlin wouldn't assume one way or the other, so he would merely proceed with caution, and wait until he had more evidence before making any conclusions.

It was in this mindset that Merlin set out once again to find Finna.

* * *

Morning melted into afternoon, and afternoon into the first touches of early evening. Mordred, Percival, Leon, Gwaine, and a good number of other knights were patrolling the woods, looking for signs of the sorceress, attempting to track her down. Mordred had an inkling that, of all of them, he would have the best chance of succeeding if he tried hard enough.

He was putting in absolutely no effort.

Thankfully, the others seemed to be having minimal luck. They were following a trail, but it was getting thinner and harder to track by the minute. Mordred was glad that Arthur had not given him charge of _this_ patrol as well—now that the success or failure of the mission didn't reflect strongly upon him, he had no qualms about intentionally failing to find the sorceress.

"Leon," said Gwaine, drawing the other knight's attention. "If our luck doesn't change soon, we're going to lose the trail altogether. It's becoming harder and harder to find anything."

"I know," replied Leon grimly. "If that becomes the case, we'll make camp and start again tomorrow."

"What if we are unable to pick up any leads again?" Mordred pointed out. He could tell by the looks on his friends' faces that they were having exactly the same thoughts. "We cannot continue the search indefinitely."

"No, of course not," answered Leon practicably. "But for now, we still have a trail to follow. Let's try not to lose it."

"And what if we do?" Gwaine pressed.

"We keep looking," was Leon's firm reply. Gwaine made a face, but turned away and did as he was bid, directing his gaze at the leaves and trees around him. Mordred did so as well, though his eyes weren't really looking.

A thought whispered in the back of his mind, a feeling as if he'd forgotten something, or like something was out of place. Frowning, Mordred looked around himself more sincerely.

When he realized the cause, his tensed muscles relaxed quickly. "Where's Percival gone?" he inquired. Leon made no response, and Gwaine merely shrugged. Having nothing better to do, Mordred pulled out his water pouch and put it to his lips.

"Now look who I found skulking about!" came the voice of the very man in question.

Mordred, Gwaine, and Leon all quickly turned to see two figures approaching, a grinning Percival and an amused, if slightly sheepish, Merlin. Mordred stared at the warlock, stunned by his presence. Only a brief moment later, he looked perfectly casual.

"Acting like a fugitive himself," Percival added with amusement, and was he looking directly at Mordred while he spoke?

Yes, if that smirk and subtle wink were anything to go by. As if he were delivering a special present just for Mordred.

Mordred should have expected as much, he supposed. Even Percival wasn't above friendly teasing. The younger knight didn't rise to the bait, so as not to tip off any of the others. Percival knowing about it was one thing. Mordred wasn't so sure how he felt about the idea of Gwaine and Leon knowing as well.

Percival and Merlin reached the rest of the group. Percival immediately plopped himself down on a fallen trunk, pulling off a boot and shaking it upside down, complaining about the adverse effects of nature on his feet.

"Merlin," said Leon, voice firm, though clearly surprised. "What are you doing out here?"

"I've been collecting some herbs for Gaius, that's all," answered Merlin with a bright, innocent, boyish smile.

Goddess, how anyone managed _not_ to fall in love with Merlin was far beyond Mordred.

Trying to distract himself from that sort of thinking before anyone could see it written all over his face, Mordred turned aside and brought the water pouch up to his lips. He took a long drink.

Merlin leaned against the same fallen trunk, as Leon echoed, "Herbs? You were looking for herbs?"

"Gaius is very particular," explained the manservant. "They have to be fresh, or the power's diminished."

"Hardly the time and the place to be gathering herbs," Percival pointed out.

"You were grateful enough for them when Gaius cured your palsy," was Merlin's snappy retort. All three of the other knights now turned to look, varying degrees of surprise and curiosity in their expressions. This bit of news was too interesting and unexpected even for Mordred to ignore it.

Percival shot Merlin a look. "It wasn't palsy."

"I was being polite," said Merlin, grinning. Percival rolled his eyes. Mordred chuckled, _very_ amused. He considered this payback—though Merlin was doing it unintentionally—for Percival's earlier nonverbal teasing. _Brilliant_.

"There's a dangerous sorcerer at large, Merlin," said Leon, ever serious. "Not to mention Saxons. This is not the place to be alone."

"I'll be fine, I'll just, uh… collect the rest of my herbs and I'll be on my way." Merlin made as if to leave, but Leon grabbed his arm, stopping him. The older man shook his head.

"No."

Merlin looked between Percival, and Leon, and Gwaine.

Was Mordred becoming paranoid, or was Merlin actually making an effort to entirely ignore him?

"All right." The physician's assistant grasped the arm holding his and shook it in a friendly fashion. "I'll head back."

Glad to have an excuse to seek out Merlin's attention, however briefly, Mordred told him, "We can't allow that either."

"You're staying with us, Merlin," Gwaine said firmly, though not unkindly. "Until the sorcerer is apprehended."

Merlin smiled at the group, even though it was clear to Mordred that staying with them was the _last _thing Merlin wanted to do. "Well. Thank you."

When he turned towards Mordred, still smiling, the druid found that he couldn't resist the infectiousness of that smile. He gave one of his own to match Merlin's in the brief second before Merlin turned away again.

Mordred didn't fail to notice that Merlin's smile now seemed a fraction more forced.

* * *

Inevitably, the knights lost the sorceress' trail, as Gwaine had predicted. Rather than double back and keep looking, Leon decided that they would set up camp for the night, and start again in the morning.

Merlin was glad for this turn of events. It was certainly good for him, and Finna, that the trail had been lost. And now, with everyone settled down to sleep, it was the perfect opportunity for Merlin to sneak away. He'd wasted too much time already. He had to find her.

Lying on the cold ground, Merlin turned his head from side to side, reassuring himself that all of the knights were in fact as unconscious as they seemed. He rose from his spot and began to walk away from the camp, putting his sword in his belt as he did so, eyes still checking around him.

A sound from behind him froze Merlin in his tracks. He paused, tilted his head. The man huffed again, shifting in his sleep. Some of the tension bled from Merlin's body. His feet began to move forward again.

"Good morning." Merlin whirled around, his heart pounding at the fright. There stood Mordred, leaning against a tree, seemingly on guard duty.

Already, with only two words and one shared glance, it was painfully evident that the events of the past few days, the secrets and the chases and the lies and the walls, had torn a cold rift between them, borne of nothing but a lack of understanding on both sides.

Mordred glanced off to the side. "Though _technically _I think it's still night."

_Cheeky prat_, Merlin thought immediately. Had the tension between them been any less palpable, he would have spoken the words out loud. As it was, he kept the words of endearment to himself.

Pathetically, not knowing what else to do given his resolution to tell Mordred nothing, and with the tension making him feel vaguely like he was walking over burning coals, the warlock instinctively tried to lie. "I was just going for a-"

"Relieving yourself?" Mordred interrupted.

"Yeah." Merlin gave an awkward half-smile that he _knew_ was the opposite of convincing the moment it plastered itself onto his face. He quickly resigned himself to not getting away with this bluff in the slightest. It hadn't been likely to work in the first place. Mordred knew him too well.

"You always put your boots on to do that, do you?" the younger man mocked, his way of calling _bullshit_ on Merlin without actually speaking the words. Being fully aware of that fact, Merlin decided he might as well return the banter, seeing as it didn't matter anyways.

"I don't like splinters," was his sassy reply.

Their banter felt unpleasantly chillier than usual. The tension tore at them both, and yet they both were determined to hide it behind strong outer walls.

"You weren't collecting herbs either, were you?"

It was a statement, not a question. Merlin opened his mouth, not to confirm or deny, as that was pointless, but to try to explain—without actually revealing anything—why he'd lied, why he'd-

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Merlin," said Mordred quickly, his expression as closed off as Merlin's own. _I think it would hurt too much to hear_, was a thought he chose not to verbalize.

Merlin stared at his former lover, feeling astoundingly grateful—guilty—for the kindness being done unto him.

Mordred continued calmly, "If you're willing to risk your life, it must be important." _Even if you won't share it with me._

Merlin paused, insides twisting with the knowledge that he was risking his life essentially to discover whether or not Mordred was trustworthy, and if not, how to deal with him. "It is."

"A problem shared," said Mordred knowingly. The knight looked aside, putting all his mental energy into shoving down his feelings of distress, confusion, pain. That everything had gone downhill this quickly, leaving them as barely more than two distrusting strangers _playing_ at being friends, broke Mordred's heart.

Help and protect Merlin. Don't let him see that it hurts. That's what he needed to do. No matter why Merlin was treating him this way suddenly. It didn't matter. It didn't. "I understand." _I don't understand. Why are you doing this to me?_

He looked back to Merlin, then behind them at the knights. "I'll… tell them I escorted you back to the bridge."

For a moment, Merlin was unsure what to say. Why was Mordred doing this for him? He didn't deserve it, certainly not _now_. His surprised gratefulness was enough to fully overwhelm all of his negative emotions for just a moment, and all he could think was that he wanted to kiss Mordred.

Instead, he put that thought into words. "Thank you." The warlock turned to go.

"Merlin!" the younger man called, his needs triumphing over his control for a split second. Merlin turned back around, feeling the way his heart pounded and his stomach danced with butterflies. He met Mordred's eyes.

"Be careful."

The two words were sincere, but still an obvious replacement for three other words that Mordred had been strictly forbidden to use. Merlin felt another rush of gratitude that Mordred was still adhering to his rules, and a rush of warmth in his heart at the sentiment being expressed.

Unable to do anything else, Merlin turned away, leaving into the peaceful darkness of the forest.

* * *

"Where's Merlin?" was Gwaine's first question when he awoke. Hearing this, Leon spun about sharply, a deep crease in his brow, looking for the manservant. About to call out Merlin's name, Leon was stopped by another voice, that said,

"He's not here."

Gwaine, Percival, and Leon turned to Mordred with surprise.

"There's no need to worry. I escorted him back to the bridge," Mordred elaborated with an innocent smile. Percival's eyebrows rose, and his lips turned up slightly, but the other two knights simply looked displeased.

"In the middle of the night?" asked Leon incredulously.

"He was quite intent on returning to Gaius," explained the young knight. "Said he wouldn't be able to sleep until he did. I felt there was little choice."

There was a pause as the older knights considered this.

"Well," said Gwaine finally, smiling, "So long as Merlin's all right, I reckon it's fine." Mordred nodded his gratitude as Leon also relaxed at Gwaine's words.

"You still shouldn't have done it without first consulting me," lectured Leon. Mordred inclined his head.

"You are right, of course. I apologize. I'll think it through next time."

The discussion over, Leon now turned to address the whole band of knights.

"Yesterday we lost the sorceress' trail," he said loudly, "Today we find it again. Spread out and search." That was all the command that was needed for the knights to do just that.

As he'd done the previous day, Mordred wandered slowly off, sweeping his eyes vaguely over the ground, feigning a search that he wasn't really doing. Feeling a presence approaching behind him, he turned and exchanged smiles with Percival.

"So," said the taller man. Mordred waited for him to continue. When he didn't, Mordred glanced back and saw an amused, knowing twinkle in Percival's eyes. Mordred pursed his lips.

"Nothing happened, Percival."

"Course it didn't," he agreed. The twinkle in his eyes only grew brighter.

"Believe me," insisted Mordred. Then he gave a crooked smile of his own. "I _wish_ something had happened. But nothing did."

Though he was still grinning, there was now noticeable sympathy in Percival's expression. "Still. Must've been nice to see him."

"Yes, it was," Mordred lied. "Very unexpected. But a nice surprise."

"Well, you just wait. I doubt it'll take Merlin much longer to come to his senses. How could he resist that smile of yours?"

Mordred forced out a chuckle. He appreciated the teasing compliment, but he knew just how wrong Percival was about Merlin coming around, and it hurt. It hurt to think about. If Merlin ever _did_ 'come to his senses', it certainly wouldn't be any time soon, not by the look of things.

"You are a good friend," he said softly. His eyes flashed up to meet Percival's again. The older knight smiled.

"That's what I'm here for." Percival began to head off in a separate direction.

"Percival?" The knight turned back. "If ever there is something I can do for you, even just as a pair of ears to listen, I'm here. I'd be glad to do what I can. Friendship does not only go one way."

Percival was mildly stunned. He was so used to being the responsible one, the one that others leaned on and went to for help or advice. It was a natural role for him to fill, and he liked filling it.

But he couldn't remember anyone else expressing a sentiment similar to Mordred's during the years he'd grown up. There had been friends he'd relied upon, but… none that _invited_ him to, as Mordred was doing. As Percival did with everyone else.

A very grateful smile slid across his face. "You're a good friend too, Mordred." After Mordred smiled brightly and nodded his thanks, Percival turned and walked away.


	28. I Will Wait

_Author's Note: Hello my lovely readers. WARNING: Spoilers for 5x10. As always, I'd like to express my sincere thanks to all of you for reading, and especially to those of you who leave your thoughts. Welcome also to those who have joined us more recently, it's nice to have you. Incredibly big thanks to Susana31082 for all the help you've given me._

_Also, okay, normally I don't comment on the chapter title, but I just felt the need to mention this one. I only recently heard the Mumford & Sons song "I Will Wait", and after I'd listened to it a few times, and really paid attention to the lyrics, I was just like... _Merdred._ **My **__**story.** Just me, then? Okay. It's entirely possible I'm just becoming too obsessed with this song... Anyways! Onwards!_

* * *

There was no reason to think that anything had gone amiss. Merlin was powerful enough to take care of himself. And considering that he had been in conference with the sorceress, it seemed clear that she wished him no harm. There was no reason to think that Merlin was not perfectly well.

Yet, Mordred couldn't help but to worry. He blamed his silly paranoia on the fear and tension being exuded by all the other knights. Evening was drawing in, and still they had found nothing. Some were afraid of being ambushed by the sorceress; others were afraid of facing Arthur with news of a second failure.

Either way, everyone was on edge, the air was tight, and Mordred was becoming affected.

Finally, he gave in, telling himself that he would just do a quick check and then he could feel safe and calm again.

_Merlin,_ he said, sending the telepathic call as far out as his magic would allow. Mordred had always been able to cover long distances with his telepathy, and his reach had only grown farther as he'd grown older. With Merlin especially his range was incredible, probably because he had become so in tune with Merlin's magic that there was now a connection between them. Mordred strongly doubted that Merlin could have gone outside his reach.

But there was no reply.

_Merlin?_ he repeated. Still nothing. The irrational fear inside of him began to fester. _Merlin, I only want to know that you're safe. I swear. Assure me of that and I'll say nothing else. I have no wish to bother you._

Silence.

_Please_, the druid begged.

Mordred's throat was dry. He swallowed and forced in a shaky breath.

There could be only four explanations for this. One, Merlin was too far away to hear him. Unlikely. Two, Merlin was ignoring him. (The thought stung.) Unlikely. The Merlin he knew wouldn't just let him suffer, even if things between them had been tense. At the least he would respond with a curt, _I'm fine._ Three, Merlin had exhausted his magic. Possible. But doing what? He would have needed to exert a great magical effort for that to be true. Four, Merlin was injured badly enough to shake the connection, most likely a fatal wound. Also possible. Very distinctly possible. Probably the most likely of the four options.

It was also the most upsetting.

Mordred struggled to keep himself from panicking. He felt the overwhelming urge to abandon the knights and run off to find Merlin, but he couldn't. His sense of duty was too strong, and without a telepathic connection, he wouldn't even know where to start.

"Mordred!"

The young knight's eyes flew upwards, where they were met with the sight of an extremely concerned Sir Gwaine. It was at this time that he realized he'd practically fallen against a tree in order to keep himself upright. Not to mention the short breaths going in and out of his body.

"Yes?" he struggled to get out, standing up straighter and forcing a smile onto his face. Gwaine's eyebrows pulled together with obvious confusion.

"Are you all right there?" he asked slowly. "For a moment you looked... not very good."

"I'm fine," assured Mordred, pushing himself off the tree. "I found myself momentarily out of breath. Probably just the heat."

"You may be coming down with something," Gwaine suggested. "Perhaps you should rest for a bit. We aren't getting anywhere with the search anyways."

Mordred instinctively opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again. Gwaine was offering him a good excuse to take a break and regain control of himself. Why object?

"You may be right," he agreed. "I think I'll just sit."

Gwaine smiled sympathetically. As Mordred dropped down, resting his back against the tree, Gwaine walked up beside him. With a strong hand, he squeezed Mordred's shoulder.

"Holler for me if you need anything," Gwaine said. Mordred nodded with a polite smile. Squeezing one last time, as a goodbye, Gwaine left him there. Mordred leaned his head back against the rough bark and sucked in a harsh breath.

* * *

Merlin's side was killing him. Literally, as a matter of fact. With each step (stumble), his body weakened even more, the sweat coating his skin grew thicker, and his mind grew hazier. It was all he could do to keep pressure applied to the wound, keep walking where he was led, and force his ears to let Finna's voice in.

_I've suffered far worse than this_, the warlock told himself, gritting his teeth. He was irrationally frustrated with his body's vulnerability to mortal wounds.

The dogs were getting closer. Which meant that _Morgana_ was getting closer. Or her men, at the very least.

He struggled to pay attention. Don't trust Mordred, according to Finna. Well there was a shock. If Merlin hadn't been near death's door, the words might have made more of an impact than they did. As it was, all he could tiredly think was _Yes, tell me something I _haven't_ heard a dozen times already._

Merlin kept his biting remarks to himself. He was fully aware that he wouldn't have even _had_ such unkind thoughts if his mind had been functioning properly. But apparently his physical state had lessened his patience, and quieted the part of him that was usually so affected by talk of prophecies and destiny. That part of him felt numbed, tired of being abused over the years. Right now, being warned about Mordred was making Merlin feel more annoyed than anything else.

They were locked in a room on the top floor now. Finna wanted him to go? But he couldn't leave her. That was wrong.

But she had a point. He needed to survive this. He'd go on the roof, then.

His sword? Why did she want his sword? No way could she fight them off with-

Oh. Of course.

Suicide.

Instant guilt for every sarcastic thought he'd had towards her. Finna was bold, brave, and honorable. She was sacrificing her _life_ for him. He didn't think he deserved it. He was grateful. Humbled.

Merlin sincerely hoped that Alator had put something _incredibly_ important in the little box Finna had given him. If not, his death and Finna's were certainly a waste, as the warning about Mordred wasn't news to him—a bit disappointing, perhaps—and the rest had honestly been too vague to help at all.

He made it to the roof. Collapsed. Tried to stay awake. His thoughts fixed on the one thing, the one person, who mattered most. And whom he had the most regrets about…

At least if Merlin died here, he would do so on good terms with Arthur, his best friend. The same could not be said for Mordred. That knowledge hurt more than the hole in his gut.

Funny how imminent death had a way of making such things so painfully clear, when there was nothing else to cloud one's thoughts and feelings.

* * *

It was dark again, and the knights had set up camp. They'd had no luck all day. They were close to Camelot's border though, and Leon had declared that if they still hadn't found any hint of the sorceress by the time they reached the border, they would concede defeat and head back.

Mordred was eager for that. He couldn't bear being here when he neededto be in the citadel, making sure that Merlin was safe and sound. He'd physically recovered from earlier, but he was no better than before mentally or emotionally.

Most of the knights had drifted off to sleep, but Mordred turned over yet again, shifting his body uncomfortably as his mind concocted a variety of extremely unpleasant scenarios in which Merlin was dead or dying somewhere, all alone.

"Gwaine mentioned that you were feeling ill earlier," came the quiet voice of Percival, who lay just beside Mordred and clearly hadn't fallen asleep yet either. Mordred felt a guilty pang, hoping that he hadn't kept his friend up with all his moving about. "You all right?"

Mordred said nothing for a moment, considering.

Then, "I'm worried about him," he said quietly.

"Who, Gwaine?" was the reply.

"Merlin."

The larger man turned his head towards Mordred now, his body then following the movement. This time there was no teasing gleam in his eye. He met Mordred's gaze calmly, clearly taking Mordred's concern seriously. The younger knight appreciated this.

"Why? You took him back yourself, didn't you?"

"Yes, but…" Mordred struggled with his words. This was the worst part about having to keep secrets from his friends. It was so difficult to speak about so many important things. Mordred wished he had Merlin back. _Merlin_ he could talk to freely. "Merlin is… reckless. He does not allow danger to stop him. He could very well go looking for more herbs."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," reassured Percival. "Not after Leon reprimanded him."

Ignoring the hint of joking in Percival's voice, that was clearly meant to raise his spirits, Mordred sadly countered, "You don't know him as I do." Percival stayed quiet. "And what if he is not so lucky as to be found by knights of Camelot this time? What if-"

"I know it's easy to worry, but try not to. It won't help either of you. Right now, Merlin is safe in his bed, probably asleep, I'm sure of it. Nothing bad's going to happen to him."

"I hope you are right, Percival."

"I'm _always_ right."

Mordred flashed his friend an appreciative smile. "Thank you."

"It's all right," Percival replied. "I understand."

* * *

The next day was bright and warm. Leagues away, the knights were already up and searching for a trail they'd never find. They were about to discover the body of a dead knight, whose skin had grown over his face. A rather gruesome murder, even for the knights, who were acclimatized to violence and death. Some would vomit at the sight.

But Merlin had no knowledge of all that when he awoke and found himself in a small clearing with a dragon for company. A dragon who had come through for him, as always, and saved his life.

Merlin felt his side once more as Kilgharrah flew away, their conversation evidently over. The lack of injury still amazed him, and he rubbed the spot occasionally as he walked, as if convinced that the wound would reappear at any moment.

The walk back to the citadel gave the manservant a great deal of time to think, and he was glad of it. He wanted to have his thoughts sorted out by the time he saw Gaius, and Mordred, again. Merlin could clearly remember all his thoughts from the night before, though they were accompanied by an unpleasant fuzziness. He felt it wise to review all that had happened—all he'd been told, and all that he'd felt at the time. What were his opinions on it now, in the light of day, with a well-functioning brain?

People had _died_ in order to get this message to him. This warning about a coming battle, and about Mordred. Merlin felt the familiar twist of guilt in the pit of his stomach, knowing that he was responsible for others' deaths, that they had died because of him. Something inside of Merlin told him that he should, of course, heed the warnings, so as to ensure that their deaths weren't in vain.

And yet…

Merlin was sick of it. Sick of the cryptic warnings, and the prophecies. Sick of destiny. Sick of others twisting his mind, making him distrust good people, causing him to make bad decisions because his judgment was clouded. Completely sick of it.

Merlin had on numerous occasions defended Arthur to those who were inclined to judge and dislike him for who he was, what he'd done. Why? Because Merlin, unlike them, _knew_ Arthur, and knew that he was a good man.

Didn't he also know Mordred, just as well as he knew the king? Merlin thought so. So then why was he allowing these others to determine his opinion of Mordred? Why wasn't he telling them _"You don't know Mordred like I do"_? None of these others knew, for instance, that Mordred had willingly offered to sacrifice his destiny for the sake of Merlin's love. _They _didn't _know_ that. But Merlin _did_. And he believed it, he _knew _it to be the truth. Just as his instincts had served him well about Finna's goodness, he knew in his heart that they were just as correct about Mordred's.

This had all become so clear to him as he lay dying, and it was still clear to him now. Merlin had known that he wouldn't, in all likelihood, die, but it had felt like he would, and had been a legitimate possibility.

And the person who had been on his mind the entirety of the time he'd been on the rooftop was Mordred. Not in a _"I won't be able to save Arthur from him"_ way, but in a _"I'll never be able to see him again and make things right"_ way. All he could think of was his regret. The agony of knowing that their last conversation had been one of ice, attempted lies, and hidden truths—

Well. On Merlin's part. _Mordred_ had been a _saint_. He'd helped Merlin. He'd even told Merlin—in his own way—that he loved him. Despite the way Merlin had been treating him. And Merlin had been so determined to wait until he heard Finna out before 'choosing a side', as he'd thought of it, that he hadn't allowed himself to be honest, and to tell Mordred that _Merlin loved him back. _

Besides, according to the Diamair, the key to all knowledge, Arthur's bane wasn't even Mordred! It was _himself_. So why should Mordred be condemned?

Upon returning to the castle, Merlin gave the box to Gaius, allowing the physician to be the first to open it. Hearing Gaius read the words of Alator's message only strengthened his resolve.

Once more, there was little of value contained. Vague warnings and omens only. It made him feel disgusted and frustrated that Alator and Finna—and who knew how many others—had suffered, had _died_, over this. This… this… unhelpful piece of paper! The only part of any real significance was the reveal of the name "Camlann". Merlin had never heard of it, but he was sure he'd never forget the name after this.

But the message also said that Arthur would meet his doom there. That it was _destined_ to be so, if the prophets were to be believed. Well, Merlin certainly had no intention of letting _that_ happen. Destiny could go _hang_ if it wanted Merlin to give up on Arthur. Being as that was the case, since he no longer cared about destiny anyways, why give up on _Mordred_?

So damn the prophecies, and damn destiny.

Merlin would show them all.

* * *

The bells rang out, announcing their arrival with a warning toll. Four knights—including Mordred, Gwaine, and Leon—carried the body swiftly to Gaius' chambers, so that he could examine the corpse. Percival was already there, having gone on ahead to warn Gaius first.

The moment they entered the room, Mordred caught sight of Merlin. A completely healthy and safe Merlin. Relief struck him like a blow to the chest. It was all he could do to keep the sling hoisted up, and stop himself from rushing to Merlin's side.

Recognizing the severity of the situation, Mordred kept himself composed, and paid attention to Gaius' words as the physician explained the situation to Arthur, who had joined them.

"It is the result of powerful magic."

Mordred's eyes turned instinctively towards Merlin, and—his heart leapt to realize that Merlin was meeting his gaze. The young knight was both surprised and pleased that this aspect of their relationship was clearly unchanged: their immediate need to connect, to share, to find each other in the midst of unpleasant times.

This pleasure was of course tampered by the morbid situation, and Mordred turned back towards Gaius with an unhappy crinkle on his forehead.

He wasn't surprised that Morgana would do something like this. But it still made him sad.

"Morgana has declared war."

A gloom filled the chamber following those words. The air was rank with fear. No one dared to move. They hardly remembered to breathe.

Finally, Arthur broke the silence. "I'm calling an emergency council meeting of the Round Table. Now." The king strode out of the room, Merlin following quickly behind him. The remaining knights exchanged brief glances before rushing out as well, to locate and summon the rest of the knights.

* * *

The meeting was tense, but thankfully brief. Arthur announced the state of war. This was followed by a short discussion of their options, of the proper course of action. There was little to be decided, however, as they had little indication of Morgana's plans. Everything was no more than speculation and worry.

After a few minutes, Merlin determined that nothing of real importance was being said, nothing that he and Mordred weren't already aware of.

_Mordred, are you okay?_ he asked silently. The only physical indication that he'd been heard was a slight, barely noticeable move of Mordred's head.

The knight didn't understand. Why was Merlin speaking to him? That made no sense. And why did he even seem _concerned _about Mordred? What was going on?

_Yes, I'm fine_, answered Mordred after a brief pause. _Why?_

_Finding a knight dead like that. It would be enough to upset _any_one._

_I've seen worse._ He paused. _Merlin… Are _you_ all right?_

Merlin's brow creased. There was a serious tone of concern in that voice. _I've seen worse as well_, he assured.

_No, I don't mean about the knight._

_Then what do you mean?_

_I-_

"This meeting is adjourned," announced a grim Arthur Pendragon. The king and queen went immediately to Merlin as the rest of the knights rose and began to take their leave. For a moment, Mordred watched his three friends in quiet conference. Then he turned, and made to leave with the others.

_Wait for me in your rooms._ Mordred's feet kept going, but his brain stopped with shock. _I'll be there soon._

Well. Mordred was more confused than before, but he wasn't going to complain. He'd wanted nothing more all day than to get Merlin alone, to reassure himself that the older man was fine. For fear of being noticed, he hadn't even allowed himself a long and proper look at Merlin since the knights had gotten back to the citadel.

His heart raced at the thought of Merlin _choosing_ to come and see him alone in his chambers. This was a good sign, surely.

Mordred made his way to his rooms with great haste.

* * *

When Merlin entered Mordred's chambers only a few minutes later, he was momentarily stunned (he even jumped a bit, he was so startled) by Mordred practically leaping at him. Mordred's hands hovered only inches from his body, fingers twitching as though they ached to touch him but remembered Mordred's vow not to, and his eyes swept up and down over every inch of Merlin's body.

Merlin blushed at the intense scrutiny, and found himself void of words.

Finding everything perfectly in order, Mordred's face lit with relief. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he flung his arms around Merlin, pulling him into a painfully tight embrace. His heart hammered in his chest. He'd been so afraid of never holding this lithe body in his arms again.

Before Merlin recovered enough from his shock to wrap his arms around Mordred in turn, the younger man had already drawn back. But one gentle hand remained, placing itself lovingly against Merlin's cheek, as if Mordred simply couldn't bear to lose all physical contact.

Merlin felt completely lost, and the butterflies dancing in his stomach weren't doing much to help his concentration. "Mordred… What-"

"I was so worried," he interrupted quickly, his expression mirroring his words. "I thought…"

Merlin was astoundingly confused. "What?"

"I- We were… patrolling, and I… I was concerned about you." Mordred swallowed, his eyes fixed on Merlin's chest. His hand slid down from Merlin's cheek to lightly grasp at the fabric of his shirt. "I tried to contact you, but there was no reply. I thought…"

Now Merlin understood. This frantic worry made sense. Merlin felt himself regaining control of the situation. He almost smiled.

Mordred's eyes rose to meet Merlin's, and Merlin couldn't help but to think of a wounded puppy. "Were you ignoring me?"

"No. No, I wouldn't do that to you," he assured. "It's okay. I _was _hurt, but I'm fine now, see?" He held his arms up with a bright smile, inviting Mordred to relax.

"What _happened_, Merlin? I feared I would…" Mordred trailed off.

Merlin frowned. "Would what?"

The druid took in a breath, willing himself to be calm. "Never see you again," he completed. "That something had happened to you, and it was my fault, for I let you go-"

"No," Merlin interrupted at once, his voice firm but eyes gentle. "_No_. Even if something _had_ happened, it wouldn't have been your fault. You can't… You can't keep doing that, Mordred."

Mordred's brow drew together at the reprimand. "Doing what?"

"Blaming yourself for things out of your control."

Mordred released a light chuckle. "Who are you to lecture me on such things?" he pointed out. Merlin chuckled along with him, making a face that said _Fair point._

Now, finally, Mordred seemed to be completely calm. His earlier concern had faded away in light of the clear evidence that Merlin was intact. There was only a soft happiness in his expression now.

Merlin was struck by the level of innocence and vulnerability in Mordred's look. It was real, Merlin knew that much. And this was not the look of a killer, not the look of someone who would stab Merlin or Arthur in the back, given the chance. Merlin had never had trouble identifying those sorts. Uther, Morgana, Agravaine, bewitched-Guinevere…

That wasn't Mordred. Mordred's happiness was genuine. Just as his worry had been.

"You really were scared…" murmured Merlin amazedly, his blue eyes sad with guilt. How could he have kept this wonderful man at arm's length for so long? He would have been impressed with his iron self-control, if it hadn't caused them both so much suffering.

"Of course."

His expression still just as sad, Merlin gave a small smile. "I don't deserve you, do I?"

The sudden question took Mordred by surprise. He leaned backwards, his jaw dropping open slightly and his eyebrows coming together as he examined the sad, vaguely guilty look on Merlin's face. Was he even… beginning to cry?

Yes, those piercing blue eyes were definitely misty, there was no denying it.

No words emerging, Mordred closed his mouth. Then, opening it again, he asked, honestly confused, "What do you mean?"

"I haven't been treating you at all fairly," answered the manservant bluntly, his voice slightly strained.

Mordred's heart squeezed at the words. He watched as two tears, one from each eye, slowly dropped from Merlin's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. The warlock immediately brushed them away and began to blink away the rest of the moisture that had gathered. Mordred forced himself to swallow. "I understand why you've had your doubts, it's-"

"No." Merlin took a deep breath, bringing himself firmly back under control. Now he fixed Mordred with a firm gaze. "You've proven yourself. You've made mistakes, true, but then, so have I." Mordred could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. "I should've listened to you. I'm so sorry, Mordred."

Then, without any warning, Merlin stepped forward and pressed his lips to Mordred's in a chaste kiss. All of Mordred's thoughts were banished by the gentle pressure on his lips, the tingling sensation now spreading over every inch of his skin. He felt like he was soaring.

Something ached inside of Merlin, wanting more, wanting to take, to claim Mordred for his own. But the rest of him was content just with this feeling of _right_ brought on by the touch of their lips together. He could feel something that had been missing inside of him start to return, filling an emptiness he'd been trying to ignore. A trail of shivers echoed down Merlin's back.

Despite his desire for more, the manservant drew back, recognizing that now wasn't the time. His eyes flicked between Mordred's, searching for a response, a signal that the kiss had been acceptable. After what Merlin had put Mordred through, denying them both this when it so clearly was a _need_ rather than just a _want_, Mordred had every right to turn Merlin away. As much as Merlin wanted to connect his lips to Mordred's again, he restrained himself, letting the younger man take the lead.

Mordred licked his still-tingling lips. The taste of Merlin lingered there. Cautiously, he asked, "What does this mean?" Merlin's lips curled up into a lopsided smile. Without even knowing what Merlin would say, an instinctive smile blossomed on Mordred's as well.

"I seem to recall a promise to ignore destiny," said Merlin with just a hint of cheek, but something much more sincere in his eyes. Those blue eyes were asking, _Can you forgive me?_ "I say we ignore it together."

A full, bright grin stretched over Mordred's face. He'd done it. He'd finally gotten through to Merlin. He'd waited patiently, trusted in love to win out, and he'd succeeded. Merlin was back where he belonged, with Mordred.

"Nothing could make me happier," he replied truthfully.

Merlin couldn't deny the relief pounding in his veins. But even now, he knew that there was still one more thing that had to be taken care of before they could truly be happy together again. "Just, promise me one thing, Mordred."

Acknowledging the serious expression on Merlin's face, Mordred nodded, just as serious. "Anything."

"No more lies," the warlock demanded.

The corners of Mordred's mouth pulled up into another smile. "No," he agreed, before pulling Merlin into a searing kiss.


	29. Red

_Author's Note: I think that, after writing all that _angst_, the idea of writing something _happy_ legitimately left me blocked. But! I pushed through that writer's block so that I could publish this for you guys quickly because I've been simply overwhelmed by happiness over the responses to the last few chapters. So ya'll better appreciate this update! Really though, I hope you like it. Thank you so much for all the support and kind reviews._

* * *

The next day, Merlin went to Mordred's chambers at the first chance he got, eager simply to be with the younger man. They shared a brief kiss before seating themselves on Mordred's bed and beginning to catch up on everything that had happened to each in recent days.

Mordred was listening to and processing Merlin's words, but he was still left confused.

"So the sorceress-"

"Finna," interrupted Merlin quickly. For some reason, it felt important that her name be remembered, at the very least.

"Finna," Mordred amended, "told you not to trust me?"

"Yeah. Said that I shouldn't make the same mistake as Arthur," Merlin admitted freely. Let it never be said that Merlin didn't practice what he preached. No more lies started here and now.

"I don't understand."

Merlin's head tilted. "You can't really be that surprised," he said, "given how many others have warned me of the same thing. It's spelled out in your destiny and all that."

"No, I… That is not what I meant." Mordred wouldn't meet his eyes. "If she warned you away from me, why would you… why did you-"

"Come back to you?" completed Merlin with a grin. Mordred looked at him and nodded. "I told you. I decided that I don't really care what destiny thinks anymore."

"Truly?"

"I _know_ you, Mordred," answered the warlock quietly, leaning forward to peer intently into Mordred's eyes. "Unlike Finna and all the rest, I know the man you are. I trust you."

"I've missed you," was Mordred's honest reply, a delicate, almost disbelieving smile on his lips. Merlin leaned forward, and happily kissed the expression off of him.

* * *

Mordred laughed, grinning brightly at Leon's tale. He took another bite of chicken as Gwaine began to object that the older knight was fabricating some of the more colorful details concerning Gwaine's participation in the story's events. According to Gwaine, the attempted arrest that led to a chase through the marketplace had _not_ involved Gwaine tripping over a broom handle and somehow knocking an entire market stall over.

Percival, seated beside Gwaine, caught Mordred's eye across the table and mouthed a big, _He's lying_, then grinned himself as Mordred laughed even harder. Gwaine quickly caught on and looked from Mordred to his best friend with an accusatory stare.

"All right, what did you say?" he demanded.

"What? Nothing!" protested Percival innocently, pretending mock shock at the suggestion. Gwaine pursed his lips as Percival sent a wink back at Mordred. The younger knight covered his mouth with a hand, trying not to cough on his food as he chuckled.

"Whatever it was he said," said Gwaine, turning back to Mordred, gesturing with his fork for emphasis, "he was lying, I guarantee it. This one just likes to stir up trouble."

Mordred and Percival shared an amused smirk.

"Besides, the damage to the stall wasn't that bad," Gwaine continued casually. "Otherwise, how could I have ended up with her in my bed?" He smiled devilishly. Mordred's eyes flew wide open as he tried to restrain a surprised smile, Leon gaped at him, and Percival merely sighed.

"Please, Gwaine. No one wants to hear about your conquests while we're eating," said Percival.

Gwaine nudged him. "You're just jealous," he mocked, smirking. Percival rolled his eyes, but said nothing more, picking up another roll and eating it instead.

Then it was time for the dessert to be brought out. While the main dinner course was always spread out on large platters across the tables, so that those at the banquet could take what they would, the desserts were carried out on individual plates, one for each person at the table.

Tonight they were being served flan, a treat that Mordred knew Merlin despised, but that the majority of the knights found to be tolerable (apart from Leon, who happened to love them).

So it was a surprise to all when Mordred wasn't served flan, like the others.

The druid knight wasn't the only one whose jaw dropped when he saw the massive piece of strawberry tart being placed in front of him. He was, however, the only one who flushed a bright pink color. It took a conscious effort to keep his eyes from flicking up towards the perpetrator.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"Well," said Gwaine loudly, "I'll say _someone's_ caught the eye of a rather doting servant. Well done, youngling."

That's all it took to break through the shock. Mordred ducked his head down out of embarrassment as all the knights roared with laughter. All but Percival, whose hand rubbed against his mouth, trying to smooth away the severely amused and knowing smile there.

Even so, Mordred couldn't help a smile of his own. He was glad that the knights' amusement wasn't cruel, but comradely. He'd never felt more like the 'innocent little brother' of the group than he did at this moment, but he found he didn't mind it, as he once would have. The playful teasing words now ringing through the air made Mordred feel like he had a family again.

His smile broke into a grin. Some asked him who had sent it, but Mordred merely shrugged his shoulders. This in turn led to more teasing, as now everyone assumed that Mordred had a secret admirer. But Mordred, knowing the truth, said silently, _Thank you_._ Though I hope you know how much of a prat you are._

_A _prat_? _was Merlin's incredulous response. _I don't think I've ever heard you call anyone that before. Does that mean I'm special?_

_It means that you are a bad influence on my vocabulary, _Mordred retorted.

_Just be grateful that I spared you that horrific excuse for a dish that the cook calls flan._

_I am, _answered Mordred, smiling softly. He knew that, even though he couldn't look towards Merlin (as much as he desperately wanted to), Merlin would understand that the smile was meant for him. _I'm amazed that you went to all this trouble for me._

_Trouble? Please. That was some well-deserved payback for every time you've purposefully made me go red_.

_You can hardly expect me to resist doing so when it always makes you look so delectable. _Now Mordred let his eyes stray briefly from his knight friends to Merlin, where the manservant stood near Arthur. When he caught sight of Merlin's predictable blush, he smirked so hard his face muscles ached. _See? You turn red, like these strawberries in my tart. Simply _edible_._

Well, if Merlin had been just _pink_ before, _now _he was red.

_I… have no response to that_, answered Merlin, shaking his head slightly and fighting a smile of his own.

Beaming, Mordred looked back to his other friends as he plunged his fork into the tart and took a bite. It was delicious. Mordred struggled, amid plenty of laughter, to keep his tasty treat away from the other knights, a number of whom had forks diving towards his plate.

_Merlin?_ he called out after another minute.

_Yeah?_

_I love you._ It was such a relief to say the words again, without repercussion, that Mordred looked up again and met Merlin's gaze. The corners of the warlock's lips drew up into a tender smile.

_I love you too._

* * *

The knights all split ways to return to their rooms after the banquet was done. Mordred's eyes glazed over as he walked, smiling absentmindedly as his mind drifted among thoughts of Merlin and strawberry tart.

He jolted with surprise when he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up into the grinning face of his rather tall friend. He rolled his eyes and kept walking.

"That was _quite_ a lovely banquet, I thought," commented Percival quietly, keeping pace with the younger man.

Mordred chuckled. "Yes, the tart was excellent, if your thoughts _happened_ to be in that vein."

"Oh, I had no doubt it would be. Merlin may be clumsy and silly at times, but he always aims for no less than perfection."

"I can still barely believe he did that," admitted Mordred.

Percival grinned. "Now everyone's convinced there's some kitchen maid who's sweet on you."

"Yes, they do seem to be under that impression."

"You intend on setting the record straight?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I…"

Mordred swallowed. It always seemed so important to keep his relationship with Merlin a secret, but why? Well, it was certainly unconventional, for starters. A knight and a servant? And two _men _no less.

Mordred reckoned that the gut need for secrecy also tied into the fact that Merlin and Mordred already kept so much secret from their friends that it only felt _natural_ to keep this a secret as well.

"…don't believe that everyone would react as you have."

Percival glanced aside, considering this. "That might be true," he conceded honestly. "But I think you don't give them enough credit." Mordred stared at him. "They're your friends. _And_ Merlin's. They care about both of you."

"I don't think he would have been so bold today if he knew that others would know he'd done it," the druid replied.

"Why not?"

"It simply isn't something he would do," answered Mordred, after a pause. "Or that _I_ would, for that matter. We prefer to be private, keep to ourselves, that's all."

"I understand," said Percival, nodding his acceptance. Then he flashed Mordred a bright smile. "Well, I'm happy for you, Mordred."

"Thank you, Percival."

"Told you he'd come round," was added teasingly. Mordred laughed lightly.

"And I am glad you were right."

* * *

Merlin gave a yawn, running a hand through his raven hair as he tromped down the few steps from his room into Gaius' larger chambers, as he did every morning upon waking. Even in his only half-awake state, Merlin stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs as his eyes took in the picture in front of him. He blinked rapidly, quickly becoming fully conscious. A sense of amazement was rising within him more and more with each second.

Gaius stood in the middle of the room, also facing the door, frozen in place with shock. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at his apprentice.

"Merlin," he said calmly, face revealing nothing whatsoever, "I believe there's been a delivery for you."

Heat rushed to Merlin's cheeks. The blush only increased when Gaius quirked one eyebrow, before giving what looked like the beginnings of a knowing smirk and turning back around.

Breaking free from his initial shock, Merlin walked forward again until he was standing beside the physician. "How many do you think there _are_?" he murmured, the warmth inside of him starting to outweigh the warmth that had gathered on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gaius' head bouncing slightly as he swept his eyes slowly from one side to the other, counting. Merlin could even hear the numbers being whispered under Gaius' breath.

"Each has a dozen, it would seem," Gaius announced, as if delivering the prognosis of a patient. "So, nine dozen." Merlin and his mentor spent another quiet moment simply looking. Then Gaius pointed towards the basket in the middle of the row. "I believe there's a note for you as well."

Merlin saw that he was right. Slowly, still overcome with wonder, Merlin approached one of the nine baskets that contained a dozen red roses each. Reaching down, he picked up one rose, the most perfect, to which was tied a folded piece of parchment.

_A dozen for each year that has passed since we met_, the note read. _And one, that which you hold in your hands, that will never die, for the eternity that I will love you._

"Merlin?" He looked up, heart thumping, slightly startled by the sound of Gaius' voice. There was an odd look on the old man's face, one that Merlin couldn't decipher. "Who sent these?"

Merlin shrugged, smiling deviously, trying to ignore the misty sheen over his eyes. "Secret admirer?" he replied sassily. Gaius seemed unimpressed by this answer, but merely shook his head fondly, and turned away to set about his own work. Merlin's eyes flashed back to the note. The beautiful, heartwarming note. He turned it over, to find that there were words scribbled on the back as well, along with a strange circular design that meant nothing to him.

Intrigued, Merlin read, _Away from prying eyes, burn this note, and watch._

A spark of excitement tingled in the pit of Merlin's stomach. He quickly spun around and raced up the stairs and back to his room, rose and note still in hand. He shut the door behind him.

First, he delicately laid the enchanted rose on his bedside table, smiling softly at the thought of waking every morning to see its beauty. Then, his curiosity overtaking him, Merlin sat down on his bed. Using his magic, he levitated the paper in front of him. With then another flash of his golden eyes, flames consumed the note.

Merlin watched in utter amazement as the fire changed the nature of the object. The transformation was so quick that one could easily miss it, but Merlin's attention had been fixed, so he saw every detail. Where the flames touched the note, the light tan parchment changed into a light, gentle blue, like the blue of the sky, with specks of other colors, greens, purples, and oranges, mixed in. Once the entire note had burned, in its place remained something completely different.

A beautiful blue butterfly flapped lazily in the place where the paper had been levitating. The sun streaming in through the window bounced off its wings, giving even more variety to its shades of color. Merlin was in awe, both of the exquisite creature before him, and the extraordinary piece of magic he had just witnessed. He'd never seen such a thing before. How on earth had Mordred done it?

However he had, Merlin was grateful. He was choked up at the gesture, and felt happier than he could describe. When he watched the butterfly take off and fly out his open window, Merlin rushed over to the window after it, beaming, feeling the cool air caress his face, and keeping his eyes on the magical creation until it was no more than a tiny spot of blue far away.

* * *

"I'm getting the feeling that subtlety _isn't_ your strong suit," remarked Merlin lightly, helping the other man off with his uniform later that day. Mordred smirked.

"Need I remind you that I was _not_ in fact the one to begin this?" he pointed out. "Besides, _my_ romantic gesture had a much smaller audience than _yours_ did."

"Tell me though, honestly, how did you do it?" asked the warlock, voice dripping with insatiable curiosity. "The butterfly, I mean."

"Did you see the mark I drew?" Merlin nodded. "That was a rune." Understanding lit Merlin's features. "A very very _small_ one, obviously, so it wasn't very powerful. But enough to get the job done."

"It was _amazing_."

Mordred looked towards Merlin with surprise. The older man was still smiling, and his eyes, as he gazed back at Mordred, were filled with wonder. Mordred nearly blushed. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course!" was the immediate response. "I've never seen anything like that before. It's incredible that you know how to do it. _You're _incredible."

Mordred smiled at the praise. It wasn't often (essentially never) that anyone expressed admiration for his abilities as a sorcerer. As a result, Mordred tended to completely forget that his powers were anything special. But Merlin's obviously genuine compliments reminded him that he had reason to be proud.

By this time, Mordred had been completely stripped of his uniform, remaining in his breeches and white shirt. For a moment, he and Merlin simply stood still, staring at each other, their undeniable chemistry sizzling between them.

Mordred made the first move. He stepped one foot closer, eliminating the gap between them. Quickly, his hands went out to hold Merlin's waist as his lips found Merlin's, pressing against them like they were made to fit together that way. The warlock responded immediately, kissing back passionately, his fingers running through Mordred's dark, wavy locks. A delighted shiver echoed through both men simultaneously.

Merlin pressed the other man backwards until his back struck one of the bedposts, and kept him pinned there. Merlin's lips abandoned Mordred's in favor of licking, kissing, nipping down Mordred's neck, causing Mordred to groan and dig his fingers sharply into Merlin's sides.

Quickly frustrated with the scarcity of bare skin available to him, Merlin dropped his hands from Mordred's hair and slid them beneath the hem of his shirt. In one swift move, Merlin grabbed the piece of clothing and, with Mordred's willing assistance, shoved it up and off of the knight.

Heat rushed through Merlin as he ran his hands over every inch of Mordred's bare chest. The skin was smooth, and warm, and soft, and _perfect_. Everything was just as the manservant had remembered, except that, in their time apart, Mordred had grown slightly more muscled.

Mordred smiled, struggling to control his breathing as Merlin planted loving kisses all over his torso. His head leaned back against the post as he focused on each and every touch. The sensation of his skin burning happily in each spot where Merlin's lips made contact. The slide of delicate fingers as they explored his naked upper body, becoming reacquainted with him. The tantalizing, almost tickling, moments when Merlin's nose would gently brush against his stomach.

Then Merlin was standing up straight again, and their blue eyes, dilating with lust, locked together. Heat radiated from their bodies, and both chests visibly moved up and down with each quick breath in and out.

Merlin raised his left hand from where it had settled on Mordred's hips. His eyes flicking downwards, his index finger began to gently trace the Triskelion design on the right side of Mordred's chest, the touch as reverent as it had been on the first occasion he'd done it.

Mordred could not help the smile or mist of tears that came to him then, as he was once more made to feel _special_ and _worthy_. Leaning forward, he gave Merlin a gentle _Thank you_ kiss, his hand holding the back of Merlin's head to keep him close.

When Mordred leaned back against the post, Merlin followed him, keeping their lips attached. Mordred succumbed quickly to the touch of Merlin's tongue against his lips, allowing his lover access. He moaned as Merlin pressed himself flush against his body, but knew that something had to be done, and quickly, about Merlin's state of being completely clothed.

The druid's hands made swift work of the red neckerchief around Merlin's neck, tossing it onto the floor. He then made to push Merlin's jacket off of his arms, which would be followed, of course, by his shirt.

_Rap rap rap! _A knock came at the door.

Merlin and Mordred froze absolutely still, eyes wide with fear and shock.

"Mordred, are you in there?" called out Sir Leon.

There was a quiet flurry of frantic movements. Mordred pushed Merlin back, Merlin spun around to find a place to hide, Mordred called out, "One moment!", Mordred made large gestures for Merlin to hide behind the wardrobe on the side closest to the bed, where the knight at the door would be unable to see him, Mordred swiped his shirt off the floor and tugged it on, checked that Merlin was in place, ran his hands through his hair to try and calm it down, and finally approached the door with an attempt at steady footsteps.

Mordred took in a deep breath and opened the door with a smile.

"Leon! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Merlin's heart pounded in his ears as his body pressed stiffly against the wooden surface. He heard Mordred and Leon greeting one another, and turned his head slightly to the side, turning his gaze towards the center of the room.

His neckerchief was still lying on the floor in plain sight.

Cursing in his mind, Merlin took a deep breath and prayed that Leon was being entirely distracted by Mordred. With a flash of golden eyes, the neckerchief flew underneath the bed.

When no one exclaimed loudly, Merlin let out a sigh of relief, resting his head back against the wardrobe again. Leon and Mordred were still talking, but the conversation concluded soon after, and Merlin heard the sound of a door clicking shut.

The relieved man sagged against the wardrobe. After another silent minute, he heard the footsteps indicating that Mordred was walking over to check on him.

Mordred came to stand directly beside Merlin. Merlin turned his head towards him and met his eyes. Neither man said a word.

Exuberant laughter exploded from them both. The two men practically fell onto each other, grasping at one another's arms for support, and gasping for air. Tears of laughter sprang to their eyes. It took a good minute for them to settle down again. When they did, the two sorcerers were grinning at each other and wiping at their eyes.

"That was ridiculous," Merlin commented.

"Says the man who, in the guise of an old woman, flirted with his king."

Still giddy, Merlin erupted into giggles, and Mordred chuckled along with him, unable to help himself. The bright expression on Merlin's face truly sent his heart aflutter.

"That's true," agreed Merlin. "I suppose this doesn't even _begin_ to compare with that."

"I'd say not."

"You know, actually, it reminded me of, uh… this time that Arthur and I were walking about the castle late at night, in places one would think we had no reason to be, and Leon just waltzed right in and saw us," Merlin recalled with a grin. Mordred raised an eyebrow high. "I think we both panicked for a second."

Now Merlin noticed the look. "What?" he asked, confused. Then his brain made the connection. "Oh, no, the situation wasn't anything like this at all, we aren't- I didn't mean that we were- I just meant how Leon- The panic, you know, at being caught? That's all I meant, I swear."

Mordred suppressed an amused grin at Merlin's typical fumbling of words. "And what were you and Arthur doing then?"

"It was the night we went looking for Uther's ghost."

"Ah." Now he understood. "Then, how did you explain yourselves to _Leon_?"

Merlin ducked his head sheepishly. He chuckled. "Well, uh, I just gave the first excuse that popped into my head."

"Which _was_?"

"That I was teaching Arthur poetry."

Mordred let out a bright laugh, his head thrown back. "Oh, I imagine the king must have truly appreciated _that_. Well done, Merlin. How have I never heard of this before? I'm amazed that Leon kept such knowledge to himself!"

"So why was Leon here?" Merlin asked.

"He was apparently under orders from Gwaine to invite me to the pub tonight," he explained.

"Sounds like a fun way to spend an evening."

"I'd rather spend it with _you_," admitted Mordred. Merlin smiled tenderly. Reaching out, he took Mordred's hand in his, locking their fingers together.

"Go out with the knights," encouraged Merlin. "We've got all the time in the world. All right? But I'll come see you _tomorrow _night, if you want."

Swallowing, Mordred nodded. He was a bit disappointed, but he knew that Merlin was right. He didn't want to just abandon his friends now that he had Merlin back. "Very well. Tomorrow then."

Merlin retracted his hand, only to place it against Mordred's neck, his thumb brushing Mordred's cheek. Mordred met him in a kiss.

"'Til then," Merlin promised. With one last kiss, the manservant drew away and headed for the door. Pulling the door open, he turned back and shot Mordred a wink. "Try not to miss me too much."

"I won't succeed," answered Mordred. Merlin's sassy grin softened. Now Mordred grinned cheekily. "But I suppose I shall merely pass the time devising my next plot to embarrass you." Merlin rolled his eyes. With one last shared smile, he was out the door and away.


	30. Past, Present, and Future

_Author's Note: I apologize from the bottom of my heart about the wait, dearies. I have no excuse. I am eternally grateful for your support. I'll be happy to see what you all think of this latest chapter! If it isn't up to par, I, again, apologize. I am doing my best to get back in the swing of things, and I hope you all bear with me while I do, because I truly appreciate every single reader that I have. Now onto the story!_

* * *

Mordred strolled into the pub with Gwaine, chatting amicably about their latest training session, critiquing each other's performances. They easily spotted that their other friends hadn't yet arrived, so together found a table and ordered their first round of drinks.

Lifting the mug now in his hands, Mordred took a sip as his eyes turned casually towards the doorway.

His throat choked with a cough.

"Whoa there," said Gwaine, whose back was to the door. Mordred caught sight of two concerned faces, one smirking face, and one sheepish face before he bent his head down as he tried to stop his coughing fit. "You all right?"

"Fine," Mordred wheezed, cheeks reddening at the thought that all his friends were watching him. "Must have swallowed it down the wrong way. I'm fine."

Hearing the sound of approaching boots, Gwaine turned his head to see that four men had now joined them. Leon, Percival, Arthur, and _Merlin_.

Mordred kept his head ducked down to hide his blush. It would do no good for any of the others to guess what had sparked his coughing fit. Gwaine on the other hand greeted them all, to which they responded with bright smiles and greetings as they took seats around the table. Now they were all seated, with Gwaine, Percival, and Merlin on one side, and Mordred, Arthur, and Leon across.

Arthur clapped a hand on Mordred's back. "Everything all right, Mordred?" he asked, obviously concerned.

The young knight's head came up, and he flashed his king a reassuring smile. "Yes, sire. The drink went down badly, that's all." Arthur nodded, pleased, then loudly called out for service, to be heard over the clamor of the busy pub. Mordred allowed the overwhelming volume to steal his attention, the meaningless noise giving him a momentary break from his company, which had caught him so off guard.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight, Merlin!" commented Gwaine, grinning. Mordred's eyes snapped to him, mind perfectly focused again. "It's a pleasant surprise."

Merlin smiled sweetly, shrugging his shoulders. "Percival invited me."

Of course. Mordred should have guessed.

He turned his gaze slowly towards Percival, eyes narrowed with a look one might use to scold a child for acting immaturely. Percival met his eyes with a small triumphant smirk, as Merlin continued, "Practically insisted that I come, actually, so I figured I could bear to put up with you all for one night."

"I just thought," Percival added, with a deceptively innocent smile, "what a shame it is that we don't see more of our favorite servant." He gave Merlin a friendly pat on the back.

"You ought to accompany us to the pub more often, Merlin," suggested Leon, smiling kindly.

"Aye, aye!" Gwaine agreed, lifting his mug. "I'll drink to that."

Merlin smiled, and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Oh, I'd love to. It's just that the prat I work for never gives me any time to myself."

"That is rubbish," interjected Arthur authoritatively, as the others laughed. "You are _always_ at the tavern, Merlin. _Always_. If I gave you any more time off, you'd probably be here so often you'd drink yourself to death. Keeping you busy at work is really the responsible thing for me to do."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Arthur."

"I think that would be the queen," Gwaine put in.

As the knights continued bantering, Merlin let his eyes keep track of their conversation while his mind drifted away.

_I'm sorry I didn't warn you_, he said.

_It's all right, Merlin. I was merely surprised,_ assured Mordred. Their eyes met._ Didn't I tell you that I wanted to spend my night with you? This is perfect._

* * *

"Till the walls come tumbling down! And the walls come a-tumbling down!"

The six friends, along with the rest of the tavern, hollered the last lines of the song with much sloshing of drinks and swaying of bodies. No man present was still in his seat as the chorus reached its end, and when they finished, each man released a joyful yell, raised their glass, and began to chug the rest down.

The noise in the room was thunderous, practically deafening Mordred, but he only laughed, amused and appreciative of the camaraderie of all.

Merlin's glass froze forgotten by his lip as his attention was won completely by Mordred's look of childlike happiness, his head thrown back with an innocent smile and laugh. The young druid man looked so carefree.

Mordred glanced around at his companions, before his eyes locked on Merlin, who was already staring back at him. Suddenly the room seemed quieter, or at least more peaceful, as Merlin gave him a smile filled with love. Mordred's exuberance toned down until he was returning a similar smile. He was hit with a rush of energy, an urge to simply cross the space between and kiss him-

"Mordred!" With a start, he jolted towards Leon, who was leaning around Arthur, and speaking quite loudly to be heard. "I'm going to get another for Arthur and myself." He held his empty mug aloft. "Would you care for one?"

Mordred smiled. "I'll get them." Leon began to protest, but Mordred was already walking around the table, making his way through the crowd towards the bar. He weaved around Gwaine and Percival, sharing a bright smile with each, and then made to pass by Merlin.

A foot stuck purposefully in his path—courtesy of Percival—tripped Mordred, sending him falling gracelessly into the manservant. He saw Merlin's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before their bodies crashed together. Merlin managed to catch Mordred as the younger man slammed into his chest, keeping Mordred from sending them both tumbling to the ground. Mordred's cheeks were flaming red as he hurriedly grasped Merlin's arms and pushed himself back up. Merlin shot him a lopsided grin, clearly noticing his blush.

"I uh… apologize, for that. Merlin," fumbled Mordred, fully aware of their audience.

Merlin shrugged. "No need. Come on, I'll help you with the drinks." With a smile, Merlin headed for the bar, and Mordred quickly followed.

"This is very kind of you," he said. "I could have managed alone." The spark in Merlin's eye as he turned to Mordred now, where they both leaned against the bar safely out of sight of their friends, was much more lively and flirtatious than his earlier glances and smiles.

"I imagine leaving you to collect the drinks yourself would be as unwise as leaving you to undress yourself from your uniform. Who knows what might go wrong?"

Mordred smirked, shifting easily from his polite-towards-Merlin act into their true relationship. "You make excuses, when in truth you only wanted more time alone with me. Just as the real reason for your assistance in removing my uniform is that you wish to see me unclothed. Admit it."

"All right, I confess, it's true," Merlin agreed with a grin. "You've discovered my secret."

"Merlin, I feel I should tell you…" Mordred paused as the barman returned with their drinks. They nodded their thanks and picked up three each. Merlin turned back towards their table, but Mordred lightly touched his sleeve, and Merlin obediently halted and looked questioningly at his lover.

"I only wanted to tell you that Percival is aware of our intimate relationship," he explained bluntly. Merlin's eyebrows rose at the news. He was stunned into silence. Mordred gave a sheepish smile. "I meant to tell you. I simply forgot. I believe it to be the reason he insisted you join us, and, of course, found it a good idea to trip me as I walked past."

Merlin had already adjusted to the news, and now grinned. "Is that what happened? I thought you were just being clumsy."

Mordred pursed his lips, but a smirk broke through as he retorted, "No, that is your area of expertise alone, I assure you."

"It could be contagious," was Merlin's sassy suggestion. Mordred rolled his eyes, but with a smile. Then his expression turned anxious.

"You aren't upset that I confided in him, are you?"

"You trust him?" Mordred nodded. "Then so do I."

The two men returned to the table, both content, and handed out the new round. The group of friends enjoyed the rest of their night together, telling stories, laughing, gambling. And when Percival ended up with a mug of ale spilled all down his front some time later, it was surely an accident, and not an act of harmless and justified payback.

When the evening drew to a close, Mordred reached out to speak telepathically to Merlin, as they'd done a number of times already. _The offer to stay the night with me still stands._

Merlin looked to him, and was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. _I'd like that._

* * *

Merlin smiled as Mordred curled his naked body up against Merlin's, his arm draped comfortably over Merlin's waist and his head resting on the older man's bare chest. One of Merlin's hands played with Mordred's hair, the fingers running soothingly through the soft, wavy locks.

"Do you believe that things can stay this way forever?" asked Mordred quietly, in almost a whisper. Merlin contemplated the question with the seriousness it deserved.

"Nothing stays the same forever," he answered finally. Mordred shifted slightly, snuggling closer to Merlin.

"But why shouldn't they? You don't still believe the future shall unfold as fate has dictated?"

"Even though the future won't play out the way I once thought it would," said Merlin carefully, "we're still at war with Morgana. We have no idea when she'll strike, or what forces she might have. And war changes everything."

"I suppose."

Quiet fell. A few minutes passed before Mordred asked another question.

"Are you frightened?"

"Terrified."

"Of Morgana?"

"It is not… Morgana that I fear. Not really."

"Then what?"

Merlin held Mordred a little tighter, for his own comfort, as horrible visions flashed through his mind. Pictures of his friends, of Mordred, of _Arthur_ dying on the battlefield. Dying before Arthur had the chance to create Albion.

"Failure. I'm afraid of-" Merlin broke off, sucking in a needed breath. "I'm afraid I'll fail."

The arm over his waist stretched forward, until Mordred's hand found what it was searching for, and the sorcerers wove their fingers together. The simple touch helped eased some of Merlin's anxiety.

"If anyone can succeed on the path that lies before you, it is you, Merlin, and you alone. Be assured of that," said Mordred. "I have faith in you. You have never failed yet in your task to protect Arthur, and I do believe that you never shall. You are stronger than you realize."

Merlin's heart warmed with gratitude. "I'm stronger with you by my side," he answered softly. The statement was somehow a _thank you_ and a plea all wrapped up in one.

"Then I shall stay there always," was Mordred's return promise.

"Good. Because I'm not sure I could survive the coming days without you."

"You either underestimate yourself, or overestimate me, but have no fear. There is nowhere I would be but here, for as long as you'll have me. I've certainly worked too hard to find myself a place back in your arms to throw it all away."

Merlin's lip twitched upwards. "Yeah, I s'pose that's true enough. I'm sorry I put you through that."

"It was the penance I deserved for the mistakes I made."

"Were you ever a child, Mordred?"

The question surprised the druid, and his eyes glanced up towards Merlin's. "I do not understand you." He seemed unsure if he should take offense.

"I just…" Merlin sighed. "I often feel that the world has been too unkind to you. And you always seem so experienced and mature. Even when I met you as a boy, you didn't seem like one. I was wondering if you ever _were_ one, or if life didn't allow for you to be."

"I was once a child, as was everyone else. Being more mature or world-weary doesn't change one's age. Maturity is not defined by one's age and, in return, one's age does not determine their maturity. Just look at Gwaine." Merlin chuckled. The two men fell into another contented silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

A question tumbled forth from Merlin's lips this time. "Are _you_ frightened?"

"Oh yes."

"Of?"

"Much."

Merlin let it go at that.

* * *

It was a dream. Or rather, a fragmented dream of a memory.

Merlin gazed at the relatively innocent faces of his friends. There was hope and youth shining from their expressions as they stood with him in Ealdor, preparing to fight alongside his village for their freedom.

Funny. At the time, circumstances had seemed so dire, what with the threat of bandits. Now Merlin felt a pang of regret and longing to return to such a simple time. Especially when…

Morgana turned towards him with a strong smile. She was confident about her mission. Her smile was kind, and spoke of a determination to seek justice, to right all the wrongs of the world. He saw her goodness pouring forth from her, just as strong as the goodness in Gwen and Arthur. His three closest friends. How lucky he was to say that, and know it to be true. That the king's son and the king's ward would deign to be so intimate with a servant was an honor, and he was glad they were his friends. He cared so dearly for them.

Merlin returned Morgana's smile, feeling the vague stirrings of butterflies in his stomach that he sometimes got around the woman. At the real time of the memory, Merlin had neither really acknowledged nor taken the time to understand the feeling—but now, as it was his older self living in a dream of the past, he understood quite perfectly what he was feeling.

An even stronger wave of sadness and regret and longing washed over him.

Merlin blinked.

Suddenly, they were no longer preparing for the battle, they were in it. They had jumped from one moment to another, as dreams are prone to do. Merlin clumsily wielded a sword beside Will—_Will_, oh how he missed this friend as well—and used his magic to fend off the attackers, though he hadn't actually done so in reality.

Then Will was shot.

Merlin panicked. This was wrong. This wasn't how it happened. Will hadn't fallen until the end of the battle.

But his dream didn't seem to care.

Merlin saw a flash of concern on Arthur's face before catching Will in his arms, sinking to the ground. Tears were already rolling down his face when he realized that the face he was looking down at no longer belonged to Will.

It belonged to Gwaine.

Merlin released a sob, cradling the lifeless body, rocking back and forth as his shoulders shook. His eyes drifted upward and saw that the bandits had vanished. Now, instead of his villagers, he saw Arthur, Percival, Leon, and Gwen all staring at Gwaine's corpse with shock and pain in their eyes, all looking battle worn, though Merlin was sure that only Arthur and Gwen had been in the fight.

"Where-" He choked on the word. Percival hastened over, his shock having faded. He fell to his knees on Gwaine's other side and pulled the body out of Merlin's arms and into his own, holding his best friend close to his chest. He shed no tears, merely closed his eyes in silence.

Merlin stumbled, rising to his feet. He wiped his eyes. "Where's Morgana?" he managed to ask. The others had only a second to look around before—

"I'm here."

The voice was quiet and from much lower to the ground than Merlin had expected. Four pairs of eyes turned to the source of the voice.

Morgana lay on the ground, still in her fighting clothes from that real day, paler than she had any right to be, a hand pressed over her stomach, over top of a very bloody and clearly fatal wound soaking red through her shirt. Merlin's heart fell from his chest like a stone, a roaring in his ears. She couldn't die. She couldn't. She wasn't meant to. Merlin didn't want her dead, despite the vague knowledge in his present-day brain that he should.

Arthur's reaction time was quickest. With a cry of, "Morgana!" he rushed to his half-sister's side.

A flurry of motion and darkness occurred that Merlin's brain couldn't comprehend. Suddenly, Arthur was flying backwards through the air, landing heavily. Where Morgana had just been lying, looking young and innocent and pale with death, she now stood on her feet, her skin as pale, but hair wilder and black clothes a tattered mess. She smirked.

"Fool," she remarked cruelly. Arthur still hadn't mustered the strength to stand.

Merlin couldn't move. He tried to. He tried to call upon his power and do something. But he found himself powerless, immobilized, watching in terror as Morgana used her sorcery first to kill Leon, then Percival, then Gwen, so that it was only Arthur and Merlin left.

This realization wiped away the roaring noise and pounding in Merlin's head, leaving him with only crystal clarity, an understanding that he had to protect Arthur.

Merlin attacked, his magic twisting through the air and crashing into the sorceress. He purposefully avoided looking towards Arthur, too fearful of his reaction. Arthur's protection was all that mattered now. He and Morgana met each other blow for blow, their magic clashing violently.

Then, two of their spells collided midair, exploding with such force that both he and Morgana were sent flying. Merlin groaned with pain as he impacted the ground, but forced himself up. There was no time for a respite. Not when Arthur's life was at risk. He spun back to face Morgana again.

Merlin stopped cold. The figure standing facing him was no longer Morgana. It was Mordred. Merlin swallowed, his throat dry and mind blank with horror.

"Shall you fight me, Merlin?" asked Mordred tauntingly. Merlin could say nothing. "Do you have it in your heart to kill me? I'm just a boy, after all. And I thought you loved me."

"I-" Merlin stuttered. "I… do. Love you."

"More than anyone?"

"Of course."

What had briefly been a gentle smile twisted up into a smirk. "Fool." Without another word, Mordred spun around and thrust a sword into Arthur's gut.

Merlin screamed.

* * *

Mordred jolted awake as the body beside him began to thrash with violent force, twisting the bed sheets and connecting painfully with Mordred. Frightened for his lover, Mordred wrapped an arm around him, trying to hold him steady.

"Merlin!" he said. The manservant's body was drenched with sweat. "Merlin, you must wake. Tis only a dream, a bad dream. _Wake_, Merlin!" He gave the older man a slight shake.

Merlin's blue eyes were filled with terror when they flashed open, his body freezing in place, and it took less than a second for those eyes to lock on Mordred's.

Mordred didn't even have the time to offer a comforting smile before tears were streaming down Merlin's face as he lashed out, snarling, fighting Mordred's hold and proximity.

"Shhh, Merlin, please," begged Mordred, tears of his own beginning to leak from his eyes. What had gotten into Merlin? Why did he look both afraid of and enraged with Mordred? "I love you, I love you, I love you…" He repeated the words with quiet conviction, over and over.

After a few repetitions, Merlin finally seemed to hear him, and his body stilled as his eyes flashed to Mordred's for the second time. There was no word to describe how Merlin looked now other than _broken_. Merlin's eyes flicked between both of Mordred's.

"Mordred?" he whispered after a moment. Mordred simply nodded solemnly, not daring to smile, but hoping that his Merlin had returned to him. Another second passed where the only sound was that of their breathing. Then Merlin's tears returned, this time racking his body with full sobs. This time they were of sorrow and pain, rather than what had seemed like hate and anger.

Mordred swallowed, his heart breaking. This time when he wrapped his arms around Merlin and pulled him tight into his hold, Merlin gladly folded into him. One last tear dropped from Mordred's eye, but he held Merlin tight and didn't let him go until he was calm once more.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin made it clear that he had no desire to discuss his breakdown in the middle of the night. The nightmare was too fresh, and the guilt he felt over it was too much. Mordred's concern was clear, but as they both had duties to attend, he didn't press the issue. Merlin could feel the eyes on his back as he dashed out of Mordred's room as soon as he'd dressed himself.

After completing all of his easiest and most boring tasks of the day, including cleaning the royal chambers and washing Arthur's laundry, Merlin decided to make his way to the training grounds, where he knew all the knights currently were. It would be a nice break to watch them for a time.

An hour later, Merlin stood out on the grass, off to the side, still watching. Earlier, Mordred had briefly acknowledged his arrival with a concerned, though timid, _How are you feeling?_ Merlin had, somewhat curtly, answered that he was fine and merely needed a bit of time to himself.

Mordred wasn't pleased by the news, but he nodded his understanding and hadn't spoken to Merlin since. Merlin didn't miss the flash of hurt that crossed his face before he turned away. This only made Merlin feel more guilty, but his mind was locked too firmly in thoughts of his dream to do anything else. Was the nightmare his subconscious trying to tell him that he still didn't trust Mordred? If that was the case, Merlin hated himself. But he wasn't sure yet. And, either way, he was ashamed of his weakness. He needed a bit of time, just like he'd told Mordred. Time to clear his head.

Since then he had focused only on the training. Arthur had noticed Merlin as well, and stopped by his side to greet him. Since Arthur hadn't ordered Merlin off to do chores yet, Merlin figured that he was still allowed to hang about, even though it had been a full hour.

As it so happened, Merlin's attention had just been thoroughly grabbed. Arthur and Mordred were beginning to spar with one another. It eased Merlin's mind greatly when he realized that, despite the nightmare, seeing Mordred's excellence with a sword didn't unsettle him in the slightest. Quite on the contrary, he was rather enjoying the match, and felt intensely proud of his lover. He could feel the weight of the previous night lifting from his shoulders.

The whisper of grass gave warning to Merlin that someone was coming up behind him. Turning, he acknowledged the queen's approach with a smile.

"He's rather an excellent swordsman, don't you think?" she remarked.

"'Course. Arthur's always been the best," he agreed, grinning brightly.

"I didn't mean Arthur," said Gwen, her eyes watching the two men on the field. "I was speaking of Mordred."

"Oh!" Merlin shifted with surprise. "Uh… yeah. I mean… yeah, I guess he is. Come a long way."

"Indeed." Merlin's brow crinkled as he looked sharply towards Gwen. Did she know something? Or was she merely paying compliment to Mordred and Merlin was imagining that hint of a knowing look in her blandly innocent expression?

"Merlin," she said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"Do you ever wish that you were more than just a servant?"

"Honestly? Nah. I'm okay with what I've got—happy with it," he replied. "Why?"

Guinevere paused before answering. "It's foolish, I suppose. But… sometimes I _miss_ being a servant." Merlin's eyebrows rose. Gwen noticed, and chuckled. "I know it's silly for me to feel this way. Why should the queen of Camelot wish to be a servant? I rule beside a man that I love. I love helping the people, serving them."

"But?" prompted Merlin.

"But sometimes I miss the simplicity of my old life," she admitted. Gwen sighed, shaking her head. "Even that makes little sense, for it _wasn't_ simpler, was it? As a servant, there was so much I couldn't do, and Arthur and I were divided by my station. And yet… it was comfortable. It's what I grew up knowing. I wasn't raised for this life, I never expected it. Never even wanted it really. I never dreamt of being queen. Sometimes I wanted to be more than a servant, but it's only now that… that I look back and realize how comfortable it was. It was easier. I fit there. I knew how to be a servant. But to be a queen? It's something entirely different."

"Maybe it's _not_," Merlin observed. Gwen looked up at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"Gwen, you said it yourself. As queen, you're _serving the people. _It seems to me that your life as a servant perfectly prepared you for this role. And I promise you this. No one could make a better queen than you."

Guinevere met his smile with a tentative one of her own. Strangely enough, it suddenly reminded Merlin of the Gwen from his dream/memory, the younger Gwen, who was still a somewhat shy servant girl.

"You truly mean that?" she asked.

"You inspire the people," he answered sincerely, making sure her eyes didn't leave his. "You are bright, and kind, and wise. You love the people and Camelot as much as you love Arthur, and the people see that. They respect it. They love you for it. I think… the people of Camelot would die for Arthur. And they would just as willingly die for you."

The queen swallowed, obviously a bit overcome. Quietly, she said, "Thank you, Merlin."

"But don't feel bad about missing your old life sometimes," Merlin added. "It's okay. Natural, to look back. I still think of Ealdor." His stomach twisted as the nightmare came back to mind—he pushed that thought away. "There's no shame in missing the safety and comfort in something that you knew all your life."

"Ah! Guinevere!" The two friends turned to see a beaming, and gleaming with sweat, king jogging towards them.

"Then again, the present isn't so bad, I suppose," murmured Gwen teasingly, her eyes locked on Arthur.

"You're right," he agreed. When Merlin replied, his gaze was not on Arthur, but instead on the young knight that was now strolling across the grass, glistening with his own hard-earned sweat. Mordred's eyes were on his just as Arthur's were on Gwen, and Merlin could see the blue shining from across the field. "Not so bad at all."

He'd done quite enough brooding about the past and the future lately, when all he _should _be doing, he realized now, was appreciating the present.

Merlin smiled brightly at Mordred across the field. Mordred stopped, clearly taken by surprise by Merlin's change in mood. Nonetheless, a relieved and cheerful smile of his own blossomed at the sight of Merlin's, and suddenly, everything felt all right again.


	31. Meet the Parent

_Author's Note: Yay, an update! Many thanks to all of my dedicated readers, __especially those of you who take the time to review. I always appreciate hearing your thoughts, no matter what they are, even if it's just a word or two :) So thank you. The wonderful new cover for this story was, again, designed by Susana31082. A great big bunch of gratitude for you! Isn't it lovely, folks? It is. It's awesome. I love it. Anyways! Onto the story!_

* * *

"There has still been _no_ sign of Morgana. None at all," concluded Arthur, his countenance as grim as every other knight seated at the Round Table. The knights who had been sent off on patrol of the outer provinces had returned bearing no news whatsoever, something that should have been a comfort to Arthur, but was in reality quite the opposite. "We don't know what she's _planning_, we don't even know when to expect an attack."

Arthur glanced around the table, as if hoping to be contradicted. No one said a word. The king sighed, dropping his head into his hand.

"Shall we… send out more patrols, sire?" asked Leon hesitantly. "Or perhaps dispatch more men to all of the border garrisons?"

"No," was the answer. "If we have no clue as to her intentions, I don't want to send so many knights away from the city. Not when it could still be… _months_ before anything happens."

"Then what are your orders?"

Arthur paused, thinking. Sucking in a breath, he raised his head with a calm authority that didn't show any of the defeat he felt inside. "We won't allow ourselves to be consumed by Morgana's threat. We will take this precious time given to us to celebrate and appreciate life. For the next five days, all knights are hereby off-duty." A murmur went up around the table.

Mordred's surprised eyes met Merlin's. _The king cannot be serious_, he said, stunned.

_Oh, I think he is_, Merlin replied. The warlock gave a small smile, proud of his friend. _He makes a good point, you know._

_You think it's a wise idea to take all knights off-duty when Morgana could strike at any moment?_

_That's just it, don't you see? _said Merlin fervently. _We don't know when she'll come. Arthur doesn't want you all to waste every second until then in agonizing anticipation. Who knows how much time we'll have lost by then? He's giving you the chance to be happy and free before the darkness that's going to come. He's reminding you what you fight for._

Mordred's breath caught in his throat. He didn't need five days off to remind him of _that_. How could he ever forget exactly what he fought for? Nevertheless, he now understood the merit of Arthur's proposal, and smiled softly in return.

_Arthur is truly a great man, _he admitted._ And perhaps even more thoughtful and intelligent than I'd given him credit for._

"But, sire-" Leon began to object, after a minute of stunned silence. Arthur ignored his second-in-command, saying,

"Spend this time with your families, your friends. At the end of the week we will have a banquet in celebration of…" Now he paused. He was still thinking on his feet, after all. "…of the Round Table, and the justice, peace, and freedom that our brotherhood stands for. This meeting is concluded."

* * *

Merlin sidestepped the servant leaving the royal chambers with the now empty dinner plates. He pushed through the door and closed it behind him, striding forward into the room. Arthur turned to him, noticing his presence immediately. He sighed.

"Just once. A knock of warning. One of these days, Merlin, you'll walk in on something that I'll have to chop your head off for seeing," he deadpanned. Merlin's face twisted in exaggerated disgust at the implication.

"I'll do my best _not_ to keep that thought in mind, sire," he answered, still feigning revulsion. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gwen, who was lying on the bed and reading a book, briefly glance up and smile amusedly before turning back to her occupation.

Arthur rolled his eyes, his hands settling on his hips. "Well? What is it?"

"I'd like to ask you for… a favor."

"Go on."

"I admired what you did at the Round Table today," Merlin told him. He was pleased to see a grateful smile grow on Arthur's lips. "I think you were right to give the knights a few days to live without the fear of Morgana looming over them."

"I fail to see where this favor comes in."

"I hoped you might give me the time off as well."

Arthur looked stunned, as though the thought hadn't even occurred to him (which it probably _hadn't_). "You want me to relieve you from your duties for five whole days?" he asked, his overly expressive face making it clear how distasteful he found the idea, and his arms now crossed. Merlin nodded, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. Surely Arthur wouldn't deny him this. "For what reason?"

"So I can visit my mother. It's been… years, since I've seen her."

Arthur's expression softened, and he looked down at the floor. When he looked back up, there was a smile on his face, half-sincere and half-forced. Merlin was puzzled, why would Arthur need to fake-

"Of course, Merlin," agreed Arthur, his eyes kind but… unhappy?

Merlin's heart lifted brightly as he suddenly realized the reason for Arthur's pathetically concealed mood. Arthur was sad. He was going to _miss_ Merlin. Merlin's lip curled into a crooked smile.

"Of course you should go," the king continued. "Please give your mother our best wishes."

"Thank you," replied Merlin, his gratitude clear. Arthur nodded understandingly, and now the smile directed at his best friend was perfectly sincere.

Merlin grinned and turned away to leave. "In my absence, I'll make sure to request that George take over my duties. I know how much you enjoyed his service."

"_Mer_lin!" came the outraged cry. Merlin swung back around to see a rather dangerous looking Arthur. He laughed and winked.

"Don't worry, Arthur, I'm kidding." Arthur heaved a sigh of relief. "Though it would be fair punishment for the most dull and painful week of my existence, when a certain royal _prat_ forced me to _study_ under him!"

"Hardly fair," Arthur retorted, "seeing as that week with George was _your_ punishment for spending _two whole days_ at the _tavern_!"

Merlin's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again. With a smirk, he agreed, "Yeah, okay, true." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Get out, Merlin," he ordered, the tone nothing but fond. Still grinning, Merlin gave him a mock salute and ducked out of the royal chambers.

Arthur shook his head amusedly, and made his way to the bed, where he flopped down next to his wife after removing his boots. When he placed his head on her lap, Gwen set down her book and began combing her fingers through his hair. He sighed, content, but still a bit sad.

"It will only be five days," she reminded him kindly. "You know that he deserves it."

"I know."

"Besides, I reckon his absence will give you a greater appreciation for the work that he does. That can only be a good thing."

"I suppose." Arthur's brow crinkled as he mulled something over in his head. "However, I must admit, I'm a bit surprised."

"With what? It seems perfectly reasonable to me that he should wish to visit his mother."

"Not that. Just… the timing," he answered, still confused. "If Merlin wanted days off, I would've thought that he would ask for it at a different time, so I wouldn't be left without my knights _and_ my servant all at once, as I will be now."

"Well, he may have asked for these particular days specifically _because_ the knights also have this time off," she suggested.

"What? Why should that make any difference?"

Gwen smiled a knowing smile that she knew Arthur couldn't see. Her husband wasn't nearly as intuitive as she was, but then, in this case, she did have the advantage of being privy to knowledge that he wasn't. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'm merely thinking aloud." She planted a loving kiss on Arthur's forehead.

* * *

_May I come in?_ Merlin asked.

_Of course._

Smiling, Merlin entered Mordred's chambers. Mordred was seated at the table, a plate of food set in front of him.

"Care to join me?" he invited sweetly, smiling up at Merlin. "I'm having a bit of a late dinner."

"Sure," agreed Merlin. He pulled one of the chairs around so that it was directly beside Mordred's, and began picking food off of the plate as Mordred continued to eat.

Between bites, Merlin told him, "I've just spoken with Arthur. He's agreed to give me five days off as well."

Mordred's eyebrows rose. "Tis generous of him. What do you mean to do with such leisure time?" Mordred was amazed to see a shyness suddenly enter Merlin's expression as the warlock's eyes turned towards the grape that he was now playing with in his hand rather than eating. "Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes flicked back towards him, and he smiled sheepishly. A hand rubbed against the back of his neck. He cleared his throat.

"Actually, I, uh… thought that… Well I didn't know if you'd made plans to, I don't know, spend time with the other knights or, or anything like that- and if you _had_, of course, I wouldn't want to- I mean, I don't want to presume that you-"

A fondly amused smile tickled Mordred's lips. "I have no plans as of yet. What do you wish to ask me? There's no need to be so nervous." Merlin chuckled, but he did in fact calm at Mordred's words.

"Yeah…" he said, "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just… I've never had to ask anyone something like this before. It's all… new."

"Don't worry, Merlin. I'm wholeheartedly interested in what you have to say."

Merlin nodded, taking one more moment to pull himself together. Then he looked back up at Mordred, his posture straightening as he did so, and faked a cool control that he didn't actually feel.

"Would you like to come with me to Ealdor, to meet my mother?"

Whatever he'd been expecting, that hadn't been it. Mordred's eyebrows shot up. Now _he_ was the one that looked shy.

"You mean that?" he asked timidly, both amazed and humbled at the request. "You wish me to meet her?"

Merlin felt a sudden overwhelming rush of love for this wonderful young man who could be so relaxed and confident one moment, and completely innocent and bashful the next. "Of course!" he assured quickly, dropping the grape in favor of taking Mordred's hands into his. He squeezed lightly, brushing his thumbs over the soft skin. "Why does that surprise you?"

"I don't…" Mordred looked down, shook his head. "…know that I can say. I didn't know if you would want that."

"Mordred, I'm _proud_ of you." Mordred looked back up, almost disbelieving of the tenderness in Merlin's eyes. "Know that. I'd like nothing more than to show you my home and introduce you to my mother. I know she'd love to meet you."

"Will she approve of me?"

Merlin leaned even closer to his lover. "There is absolutely no doubt in me that she will." A wide smile flashed over Mordred's face. Leaning the rest of the way in, he bridged the gap between them and pulled Merlin into a kiss.

When they broke apart, Merlin smirked, licking his lips. "So is that a _yes_, then?" he teased. Mordred pursed his lips but couldn't resist diving in for another kiss.

"I would be honored."

* * *

Guinevere's comment had lodged in Arthur's brain, and he couldn't help examining it from every angle, trying to unravel it's meaning. Why should Merlin care whether or not the knights were off-duty? How could it possibly affect him, and his visit to his mother?

The answer didn't come to him until the next morning when he woke up. Suddenly, it made so much sense that it was almost _painfully_ obvious. Gods, was he _really_ so blind or was Merlin just that skillful at keeping secrets?

Arthur practically burst through Gaius' door, stomping quickly towards Merlin's room. The physician was out, which Arthur was grateful for. It just made things simpler to know there was no risk of being overheard. He did respect Merlin's privacy _some_what.

A shocked Merlin turned to him as he barged into Merlin's room unannounced. _Serves you right for never knocking… _he thought with no small measure of satisfaction. Merlin was clearly in the middle of packing for his trip to Ealdor. Arthur made sure to school his features into an appropriately severe expression.

"…Sire?" said the manservant timidly.

"I've discovered your secret, Merlin," he declared, crossing his arms and staring his servant down. Merlin's eyes widened just a fraction, but his whole body stiffened. Arthur stifled a triumphant hoot, instead forcing himself to stay serious. Let Merlin fret for a moment, thinking that Arthur was _actually_ upset. It was fair punishment for hiding it from Arthur in the first place. "Did you really think you could keep it from me forever? Now, finally, everything makes sense."

Merlin's heart was beating much too fast. How could Arthur know about his magic? Why _now_? What was he going to do to Merlin? He certainly looked displeased, though, to be fair, nothing like the rage and disgust and fury that Merlin had often imagined in his worst nightmares. Still, Merlin felt sick to the core.

"Arthur, I don't know what you're talking about," he protested calmly, attempting an amused smile, hoping that Arthur couldn't tell that he was beginning to sweat, and praying that Arthur would believe him.

Arthur scoffed. Merlin's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. "There's no use in pretending. You've obviously taken pains to hide the truth from me, but no more."

"I don't… understand." Truly, he didn't. Why _now_ of all times? What could possibly have given him away? It's not as if he'd even used magic in the last few days!

"I'll spell it out for you then." Arthur leaned forward intimidatingly. "You're involved with one of my knights."

Merlin almost choked, and had to force out a few coughs as his heart began to recover from nearly exploding in fear. He was stunned. He was, of course, _wildly _ecstatic that Arthur hadn't stumbled upon his much larger secret, and his overwhelming feelings were impeding his brain processes.

Still, he was now also simultaneously being shocked by the revelation that Arthur had somehow realized that Merlin had feelings for a knight. But did he know _which _knight? Did he look so stern because he disapproved? What would he choose to do about it? Surely not _punish_ Merlin. Surely!

"_What_?" he managed to get out, after swallowing down another cough. "How- Why-"

Finally, Arthur let the triumphant grin break through. "Ah, see! I _knew_ it!" he exclaimed.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin gave himself a moment to calm down as he realized that Arthur had only been teasing him, that Merlin wasn't in any real trouble. Feeling much steadier on his feet, Merlin naturally responded, "I don't know what would make you think that, but-"

"Rubbish, don't try that," interrupted Arthur. "It's why you've asked for these five days off, isn't it? That was the biggest clue. Everything else just fell into place after that really. Though I still don't know who it _is_." Merlin felt a measure of relief at this, but Arthur was clearly bothered by it. An unusually thoughtful look came onto Arthur's face as he stared into the air, thinking hard. "It isn't Gwaine, is it? It couldn't _possibly_ be Gwaine-"

"_No_!" Merlin cried, shocked into answering. "That's not- that's- Gwaine's my _friend_, nothing more."

"Who then?" asked Arthur, genuinely interested.

Merlin shot him a look. "I think I'd rather _not_ have this conversation, actually. Anyways, I told you, I want the days off to visit my mother. It has nothing to do with any relationship you think I may have with one of the knights."

Arthur's eyes narrowed contemplatively.

"…You're bluffing," he accused.

"Are you sure you aren't just inventing excuses for my absence because the truth is that you're going to miss me?" Merlin suggested mockingly as he began to resume packing. Arthur looked playfully affronted.

"_Miss_ you? Don't flatter yourself, Merlin. I think I'm actually looking forward to having a well-cleaned room for the first time in ten years."

"I'm sure you are," muttered Merlin, privately thinking to himself, with some amusement, that it was embarrassingly easy to distract Arthur from an undesired train of thought.

"Not to mention timely service provided without unnecessary lip."

"Whatever you say, Arthur," agreed Merlin easily. He turned a sassy smile towards his king. "But I _know_ you're going to miss me." Arthur rolled his eyes, but before he could snap back a retort, Merlin took a step towards him and said, more seriously, "I'm going to miss you too."

Swallowing, Arthur's cocky expression shifted into something much more sincere. He nodded. "Good. I… _suppose_… there's some truth to the notion that I'll miss your irritating presence."

"I'll be back in just five days," promised Merlin, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder. "You'll hardly know I've gone." The two men walked out of Merlin's room together, down the steps and out of the physician's chambers.

"I hope your mother is faring well," Arthur offered in return. "I'll never forget the kindness she showed us during those terrible days."

Merlin nodded. "I'll let her know. Well… I'm off!" With one last smile, Merlin bounded away.

"Be careful on the road, Merlin!" Arthur called after him.

"Yes, mother!" Merlin shouted back teasingly. Arthur glared at Merlin's retreating figure, but ignored the jibe and headed back to his own chambers.

* * *

It was lucky indeed, Mordred thought, that so many of the knights were headed out of the city that day. A good number of them had family and friends in villages, and others simply wanted to use their time to get away from the sights they saw every day. Mordred's absence wouldn't be noted with any link to Merlin.

As they'd arranged, Mordred rode out from the citadel mid-morning, about an hour after Merlin had departed. The road was slightly clogged with traffic, but as soon as he was out of the city, Mordred rode swiftly for the forest.

_Merlin_, he called out, _Where are you?_

_Here_, came the telepathic reply. Mordred easily located the other man, and joined him only minutes later.

Grinning, he swung down from his horse and jogged over to the tree where Merlin was now rising to his feet. Merlin grinned back and met him in an embrace. There was a delicious sense of secrecy about what they were doing, that only served to make them feel giddy about the whole thing. It sent excited shivers racing through their bodies.

Pulling out of the hug, Merlin surprised the younger man by kissing him passionately, fearlessly, as though escaping the walls of the citadel had entirely destroyed any inhibitions he may have had.

Mordred returned the kiss energetically, licking his way into Merlin's mouth, and insistently pressing Merlin backwards until he was pinned against the tree. Groaning, Merlin wrapped an arm around Mordred's waist, clutching his body as close as possible. He slid a hand beneath Mordred's shirt, feeling the smooth, warm skin there.

They kissed, both men sizzling with electricity, for only a minute before Mordred reluctantly drew away. He smiled teasingly.

"Shall we go?" he asked. "We wouldn't want to be late." Mordred gave a surprised and delighted moan as Merlin pulled him back in for another deep kiss. This time, Mordred would have been entirely unable to stop, if Merlin hadn't done so.

But Merlin did, and with a twinkle in his eye. "You're right," he agreed. "Let's go then. Come on!"

Merlin gave the knight one more kiss before striding past him and mounting his horse. Mordred sent him a playful smile and followed suit. With a flick of the reins, they were off.

* * *

Evening had barely begun to set in when they arrived in Ealdor. They'd left early in the morning for a reason, and they'd made good time. Their horses trotted into the small village, drawing many a curious villager out of their homes. Most smiled with fond recognition when they saw it was Merlin riding in and then retreated back into their homes, as most were in the midst of supper and knew they could greet him the next day.

Mordred gazed all around, his eyes soaking in every possible detail of the place. The fields, the hay, the houses, the people.

_This is where Merlin was raised. This is the place he called home._

Mordred took his cues from Merlin, halting his horse and dismounting when Merlin did so. It had only been a second, in which Mordred had turned his attention to stroking his horse in thanks, before an unmistakable cry of, "Merlin!" caused Mordred's attention to snap round.

The smile beaming from Merlin's face could have lit a thousand torches. He and the woman, who was undoubtedly his mother, rushed the few remaining steps between them and met in a fierce hug, the mother reaching up to embrace her taller son. A flicker of pain echoed in Mordred's heart, contrasted sharply by the great joy he felt at seeing Merlin so undeniably happy. It wasn't envy; he didn't begrudge Merlin the comfort of a loving mother. It was only a bit of melancholy that he himself had no such family or home to speak of.

Merlin's mother drew back, her hands coming to rest on both sides of Merlin's face as she stared intently up at him. The genuinely overwhelming affection for her son reflected in her eyes, and it shot Mordred through with another confusing bolt of pain and joy.

"Merlin," she said quietly, smiling. "It is so good to see you. I wasn't expecting a visit."

"I know, I'm sorry about that," he replied. "There wasn't really any time to ask first."

"You never need ask. You are always welcome here, Merlin. Always."

At this point she lowered her hands and Merlin angled his body away, looking back towards Mordred, where the young knight still stood beside his horse. Taking the hint, Mordred chose this time to approach. He smiled sweetly, but knew that his nervousness was apparent. Well, it couldn't hurt to be seen as a timid young man, he supposed. In this moment it was true enough. Soon he was standing just beside Merlin, hands clasped behind his back.

"Mother, this is Mordred, a knight of Camelot and a good friend," Merlin said eagerly, with barely contained delight. She maintained eye contact with Mordred while her son spoke the introductions. "Mordred, this is my mother."

"Hunith," she told him with a kind smile, one that he instinctively returned. Her smile was just as warming and infectious as her son's. He graciously shook the hand being offered him. "It's good to meet you, Mordred."

"Tis an honor to finally meet you," replied Mordred honestly. "Merlin speaks of you often, and always with the highest of praises."

She accepted this compliment simply, with a delicate smile and nod. "What brings you to Ealdor?" she asked them both. "No trouble, I hope?"

"No, everything's fine," assured Merlin quickly. "Arthur decided to give everyone some time off, to visit their family and friends. So here I am."

After being reassured that all was well, Hunith suggested they take care of their horses and then bring their things into her hut, where they could continue their conversation in more privacy. This was done quickly, and soon the three were seated comfortably around her table.

"I am glad you've come, Merlin." She took one of Merlin's hands in her own. "It has been much too long since I've seen you."

"I know," he answered sadly. "There's just always so much keeping me in Camelot. Arthur seems to be in need of my constant protection." Hunith's eyes flicked towards Mordred.

"Oh, Mordred knows everything," Merlin answered her unspoken question. At this her eyebrows rose slightly. Mordred blushed, though he couldn't say why, and glanced down into his lap.

"Everything?" she asked, seeking clarification.

"About my destiny, my magic." Merlin turned to look at his lover. Feeling the stare, Mordred raised his head. The warlock's gentle expression helped settle his nerves some. Merlin reached out with his free hand and squeezed one of Mordred's, now holding it the way Hunith was holding _his_. This, combined with a confident smile from Merlin, calmed him considerably. What did he have to be nervous about when Merlin looked at him that way? "Mordred's a druid, and an incredibly powerful sorcerer himself."

Mordred's lips quirked. "You exaggerate my abilities, Merlin. They shall never compare to yours." And _Gods_, was it an overwhelming relief to speak so freely about such things in front of another living human being.

"A druid, a sorcerer, _and_ a knight of Camelot?" repeated Hunith. "I presume, unless much has changed that I am unaware of, that the king knows nothing of who you are."

"He knows only that I am a druid," Mordred answered. "And on that account, he has been wholeheartedly accepting of me. Arthur bears little resemblance to his father."

"Yes, he is quite a different man," agreed Hunith. "A good one. So of your magic…?"

"I have found, as Merlin has, that it is wise simply to keep quiet about some things."

"No one knows but Gaius and I," added Merlin. "Just as Gaius and Mordred are the only two who know about _me_."

Hunith looked between the two men, her gaze soft but calculating. "I do not… doubt your judgment, Merlin. If you trust Mordred, as you clearly do, then I do as well and I could not be more happy to open my home to him." Mordred smiled gratefully. "But may I ask how such trust came to be formed between you? You know better than to tell others of your magic."

Merlin snorted. "Didn't exactly have a choice with Mordred." He directed a smirk in Mordred's direction and received an almost sheepish smile in return, as though Mordred felt guilty for having recognized Merlin for his true self. "The druids tend to know who I am. Mordred's known about me from the start, and that was… what, nine years ago?"

"_Nine_?" Merlin and Mordred both chuckled good-naturedly at her shocked outburst. Collecting herself quickly, she even smiled along with them. "I apologize, it's just that… frankly, you look much too young to have been a knight for nine years. And this is the first I've seen you."

"I don't mind," Mordred assured her, feeling more at ease now. "You're completely right. We met first when I was a young boy. I have been a knight in the king's service for not even a full year."

"Oh, I see."

"Anyways, it's uh… getting late," pointed out Merlin. "And Mordred and I have been riding all day-"

"Oh yes, of course! Come, let's get you set up. We'll have plenty of time for talk tomorrow. How long will you stay, Merlin?"

"We can stay three days, and then we'll have to head back."

Hunith's smile was both happily surprised and mildly heartbroken. "Three days is longer than I could have hoped. And yet, any number of days would still be too few."

"I know."

Mother and son shared another hug, similar to the one of their earlier meeting but sadder. Mordred looked on with a smile. Hunith was a lovely woman: compassionate, gentle, and strong. Her company was pleasant, and he anticipated that this was a person whom he could very easily open his heart and mind to, a level of trust that very few in his acquaintance ever achieved.

He only hoped that he'd made as good an impression on her.

Distracted by these thoughts, it wasn't until her arms were around him that Mordred even noticed what was happening. Hunith had broken away from Merlin and had now wrapped him, _Mordred_, up in an embrace. Mordred stood perfectly still, shell-shocked, and saw Merlin, who stood behind his mother, openly grinning.

Powerful affection and gratitude flowed through him at the acceptance and friendship—and perhaps there was something even more than friendship, perhaps this was what a _mother's_ embrace felt like—being freely offered to him. It took only a second for his mind to catch up, his heart to swell, his body to warm with happiness, and then he had his arms gently around her in return, allowing himself to relax and simply _feel_, and _accept _her gift. He heartily ignored the gathering of any moisture at the corner of his eye.


	32. Ealdor by Day and Night

_Author's Note: Guys... I don't even know what I'm doing anymore XD But I'm having fun with it, so who cares, right? Anyways, I apologize for the wait. I've been both distracted and otherwise occupied recently. I hope you like it! I'm not even going to pretend that it isn't pure unadulterated fluff at this point. Enjoy._

* * *

The next morning Hunith, Merlin, and Mordred shared a pleasant breakfast together, using the time primarily for Merlin and Hunith to swap stories of Camelot and Ealdor, and for Hunith to become better acquainted with her son's friend.

When they were finished, and Mordred had helped Merlin clear away the dishes (they washed them all by hand after Merlin dared to use magic to clean the first and got a sound _whack_ from his mother), Mordred declared, "If it's all right, I thought perhaps that I could spend the morning exploring. I am eager to become better acquainted with the village Merlin was raised in."

"Should I come with you?" Merlin offered.

"No, I'll manage on my own," replied Mordred. He smiled with fake youthful innocence. "I promise to be careful, and not to lose my way."

"Well, if you _do_ find yourself getting a bit turned around, just yell _really loudly_, and I'll come find you," was the deadpan response. The druid smirked.

"I shall." Mordred nodded sweetly at Hunith and was soon out of the hut.

"It's thoughtful of him to give us time alone," remarked Hunith.

"Yeah," agreed Merlin fondly. "He's considerate like that."

"How long have you two been such good friends?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, shooting his mother an expression that clearly read, _Oh please. _"We're a bit more than just good friends," he said, stating that which he was certain she'd already realized. Sure enough, she smiled back at him.

"Yes, I thought that might be so. How long, then?"

"Well it's… it's honestly a bit complicated. We've had… something, since he became a knight, but… well it's all just been a bit messy. Thankfully, all that's over with now, and things are good. I mean, really. Good."

"Does Arthur know?" she inquired. Merlin's feet shifted as he drew in a breath to answer her. Before he could, Hunith interrupted preemptively. "It's fine, Merlin, I don't fault you for that. This is probably wisest. I'm just happy for you."

"You like him then?"

"He seems a very kind, intelligent, charming young man. And it would be impossible not to see the joy that he gives you. Anyone who brings such a sparkle to _your_ eyes is well-deserving in _mine_."

"I knew you'd approve." Merlin grinned. "I'm glad you do. I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with Mordred."

"That's a very long time."

"Still won't be long enough," he answered honestly. There was a powerful sense of relief at finally being free to share these confidences with someone. And he couldn't have asked for a better confidante than his mother.

"I understand." Hearing those two words, Merlin was sure of the truth of them. He smiled gratefully. "And if that is how you feel, make sure you hold him tight, and never let him go, or you'll be forced to always keep regret in your heart."

Merlin's chest tightened at the thought of Balinor, and the reminder that his mother had once had a similar love and had been cruelly forced apart from him. Speaking no words, he pulled her into his chest, allowing them both to wallow in the pain of loss for a moment.

"I always forget how much you've grown," she murmured. "It is the curse of a mother, to always see her child as a young boy." Hunith stepped out of his hold, gazing at him thoughtfully. "But you are a man now, and have been for many years. I'm so proud of you."

"Anything I've done has only been because of you," said Merlin. "Because I was raised with your love and guidance. I owe you more than I can possibly repay."

"Don't be silly," she retorted, though he noticed the faint glimmer of a tear in her eye. "That's a mother's job. The only reward I needed was to see what a fine man you've become. You are a blessing, Merlin, truly."

Too overcome by his mother's praise to respond to this, Merlin just smiled, then said, "I uh… I also wanted to thank you, for what you did yesterday. How you hugged Mordred."

"That boy looked like he needed it."

"Yeah, I think he did. He…" Merlin glanced towards the door, as if to be sure that Mordred wasn't about to come strolling back in. "…grew up pretty… alone. Never knew his mother, and his father died when he was still young. I don't think he's ever really had… _parents_. Not really."

"You're hoping that I might become like a mother to him," she stated. Merlin gave a lopsided smile.

"Honestly, a little bit, yeah. I'm not trying to force you to be anything for him, I just-"

"No, I understand. Believe me, I'm more than willing to accept him as a son. There is already a welcome place in my heart for Mordred. But he may not need, or _want_, a mother now. He grew up without one, and now he's a man."

"In many ways Mordred _is_ vastly more mature and adult than his age demands," admitted Merlin, "but I think there's still a part of him that's just a boy, hurting, needing someone to help him."

"I see. Well I hope that he will come to understand that my arms are always open to him."

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

In no rush, Mordred walked between the thatched roofs, taking his time to appreciate his surroundings. The sky was light and free of clouds, the air was cool and ruffled his hair in a gentle breeze, the smell of dirt and hay drifted to his nose. Despite the villagers hustling about beginning the day's work, it was peaceful.

He could feel many of their eyes on him, but he wasn't bothered in the slightest. It was only natural for them to be curious, and though he'd never sought out or even wanted attention, even as a young boy, he'd also never been one to be unsettled when he got it anyways.

It did, however, surprise him the first time that he was approached.

"Name's Owen," the man introduced boldly. Smiling kindly, Mordred shook his hand.

"Mordred."

"You're from Camelot, then? We saw you ride in with Hunith's boy last night."

"Yes," Mordred confirmed, "I'm one of Camelot's knights."

"Under King Arthur."

"Yes."

"He's a good man, that one. I reckon he makes a good king."

Mordred's brow crinkled. "You've met Arthur?"

Owen nodded, smiling brightly. "Aye. Years back, we were having some trouble with bandits. Hunith rode for Camelot to seek help from your former king, Uther." The man sneered. "When he turned her away, Prince Arthur and the king's ward, the one who's now turned witch, so they say…" Mordred flinched internally. "…came to our aid at Merlin's side. I'd never known a prince to care that much about a servant, or about people of other kingdoms. I knew he'd turn out well."

"He did," answered Mordred proudly. "He's a wonderful king. A true friend."

"I think I've taken up enough of your time," said Owen. "And I've got fields to be working. Glad to have met you, Sir Mordred. Any friend of Merlin's is welcome here."

"Thank you."

Thirty minutes later, Mordred had been approached by at least ten different villagers, all of whom had introduced themselves and spoken briefly with Mordred before hurrying about their chores. Each one had expressed a warm attitude, and behaved in an extremely welcoming manner. Mordred wondered if this was because they still remembered the debt they owed to Merlin for the instance with the bandits, or if they were all simply this kind and hospitable. Either way, he couldn't deny how happy it made him. So much had changed since he was that little boy, running from the guards of Camelot, hiding from Arthur's search, and depending on Merlin to save his life and keep him safe.

As Ealdor was small, and Mordred wished to allow Merlin and Hunith more time together, he happily made his way out of the village and into the nearby forest. The chatter of birds and woodland animals filled his ears, the trees hummed when he brushed his fingers over their rough bark. He felt at peace.

_Mordred?_

The young druid's eyes opened. He had been in the woods for perhaps an hour. _Yes, Merlin?_

_Where've you gotten to? You did promise not to get lost, you know._

_And I keep my promises,_ he replied. _I'm just beyond the edge of the trees. Shall I come back?_

_No, it's fine. Just stay there, I'll come to you._

A few minutes later, Mordred turned at the sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves to see his lover jogging towards him. Merlin certainly did make quite a bit of noise. He had nothing of the grace and quiet of a druid.

"You really do make the _worst_ hunter, Merlin," Mordred commented. Merlin shot him a look.

"I was favoring speed over stealth," he said. He reached Mordred and gave him a kiss. "Unless you object?"

"How could I?" They kissed again.

"So what do you think?" asked Merlin.

Mordred smiled. "Ealdor is lovely, as are the people here. Especially your mother. She has been… more than kind to me."

"I told you she would like you," Merlin teasingly pointed out.

"I'll never doubt you again."

"Good. You're learning."

Mordred chuckled with a bright smile. Groaning theatrically, Merlin laced his fingers together behind Mordred's neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. Surprised, Mordred jolted at first, but quickly returned the kiss with gusto. The older man pulled out of the kiss, and then whimsically pecked the tip of Mordred's nose. Grinning, Mordred reached up a hand to cradle Merlin's cheek. Merlin's hands had slid down to hold him around the waist.

"What's gotten into you, Merlin?" the knight asked. His lips twitched. "Have you been eating strange mushrooms from the forest?"

"No, I just…" Merlin sighed happily. "Guh, I just love you, Mordred. Being with you, _here_… Everything's perfect. I don't ever want to let you go. Promise me that!"

Mordred looked startled, but his eyes were shining. "Promise what?"

"That you'll never leave me. That you'll always be here."

"I don't need to promise that."

"Do it anyways," asked Merlin, voice gone soft. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against Mordred's. "Please."

"Of course I will, Merlin. I promise." Mordred stretched up to place a tender kiss on Merlin's brow. Wrapping one arm about his waist and one about his shoulders, Mordred pulled Merlin into his arms. "And I keep my promises."

* * *

They woke early in the morning—the sky was still dark—to the crashing of thunder and pounding of rain. Merlin turned groggily to the pallet laid out beside him and saw that Mordred was already awake and staring back at him.

"The storm woke you?" Merlin whispered. Mordred simply nodded, shifting closer to Merlin so they were near enough to touch.

"Should've known that it would rain on one of the only days I've had off in years," remarked Merlin dryly. Mordred smiled amusedly.

"You speak as if rain is a bad thing."

"I know, I know, it gives life, makes plants grow, all those good things," Merlin muttered. Mordred gave a full bright laugh, forcing Merlin to smile along with him, though he playfully shoved the younger man's shoulder and shushed him.

"I wasn't only speaking as a druid with a love of nature," he informed the warlock. "Rain also refreshes the _human_ spirit."

"What do you—Mordred!"

For the young man had suddenly leapt from his bed, and rushed over to the door. Halting with it partially opened, Mordred turned back to Merlin, his white teeth gleaming in a broad smile. "Merlin, come!" Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him. Merlin gaped dumbly for another moment before stumbling to his feet, tripping over his blanket, and eventually making his way to the door.

Opening it just a crack, he could barely spot a dark shape, which he presumed was Mordred, skipping around in the blackness. The rain roared, making verbal communication entirely impossible.

_Mordred, what are you doing? _Though the tone was disbelieving and firm, Merlin couldn't deny that his mouth had curled into a quirky smile._ Come back inside!_

_Why?_ came a gleeful voice. _The rain is so beautiful. Join me, Merlin, please. You cannot know how fun it is if you stay indoors._

_I'll get soaked_, Merlin pointed out.

_Very observant, now come on and _join_ me!_

Merlin hesitated a moment longer. Then, shaking his head with an uncontainable grin plastered across his cheeks, he dashed out of the cottage, running towards the other man.

He gasped loudly as the rain first hit him, soaking his clothes through within seconds, but he kept going. The rain was pouring down in sheets, and lightning flashed over the trees somewhere off in the distance. He shivered at the dampness, but found the rain to be a moderate temperature, not too cold to bear.

Reaching Mordred, he grabbed the druid's arm and yelled, "You've finally lost it, haven't you?"

Smirking full force, Mordred replied, "What can I say?" Thunder rumbled up above. _Your euphoria from earlier in the forest must have infected me._

"We should go in before either of us catches our death!"

"I'd be more than happy to sit by your bedside and nurse you until you regained health." Merlin rolled his eyes. "Forget about such things!" _Dance with me instead_.

Dance _with you?_ exclaimed Merlin. _In the freezing rain, in the middle of the night, when I'm as likely to trip and fall as actually do anything resembling dancing?_

_The rain is actually quite warm. And you're _always _more likely to trip than dance. Your objection, therefore, is meaningless. _

Before Merlin could respond, Mordred had taken hold of the forearm still engaged in clutching _his_ arm, and yanked. With a cry of surprise, Merlin fell forward, tumbling into Mordred. Mordred steadied him easily, his hand sliding up the arm until it grasped Merlin's hand, and his other hand dropping to Merlin's waist, hugging Merlin close to his chest.

The warlock drew back and met his eyes with something resembling exasperation—but it was a lousy attempt. There was no denying the true shine, or the fact that Merlin's fingers gripped tighter on Mordred's hand. Grinning, Mordred whirled them away, down the muddy path.

He began to hum a tune through the telepathic connection of their minds. Merlin's breath stuttered at the new sensation. He'd never heard _music_ shared nonverbally before. It was like a tingle in the back of his head, a gentle buzz that soothed and brightened where it flowed through every recess of his mind. He barely noticed their feet traveling as his eyes were locked on the bright blue eyes staring back at him, all the way through him, seeing and loving every part of him.

Suddenly Mordred spun Merlin away from him, casually pulling him back in despite his predictable stumble. Erupting with surprised laughter, Merlin's momentum caused him to collapse into the younger man, where he sagged against Mordred's chest as his body shook from laughing so hard. Mordred grinned, laughing along. Their bodies were pressed together, nothing at all between them but the soaked clothes plastered to their skin beneath.

By now they had made their way from the path into the grass beyond. The rain was still coming down, leaving trails down their cheeks, dripping off locks of hair. Mordred slowed their movements, bringing them to a gentle sway, their cheeks pressed together. He was still humming in Merlin's mind, and the manservant sighed, happily letting his eyes drift closed as he rested his head against Mordred's.

_Kiss me?_ said Merlin.

Mordred pulled back with a quizzical smile. _You never need ask._

Smiling lopsidedly, Merlin leaned forward, drawing Mordred into a kiss. Mordred's eyes flashed closed as he eagerly smiled into it. Merlin's tongue flicked out to taste the rain off of Mordred's lips. When Mordred's mouth fell slightly open, Merlin gently bit on the protruding lower lip before deepening the kiss. Mordred moaned, pressing closer, hands sliding under Merlin's shirt. His nails dragged over the wet, cool skin.

Merlin pulled away from the kiss, one hand cradling the side of Mordred's head, fingers running through his soaked hair, as he gave attention to Mordred's neck. Mordred leaned back, extending his neck as Merlin kissed the smooth skin, licked away the moisture. Then both hands were tangled in Mordred's hair and their lips met again, moving together quickly, desperately.

Merlin's hands slid down over his neck, brushing his shoulders, down to his hips, where he seized two handfuls of the soaked, now-transparent white shirt. He broke the kiss just long enough to draw the material up and over Mordred's head, and then they were back together.

_You had better not lose my shirt in the grass, _Mordred snarked, kissing the corner of Merlin's lips, up the line of his cheekbone. Merlin could practically hear Mordred's shortness of breath in his mind.

_We're two of the most powerful sorcerers of our time, perhaps _any_ time, and you're worried we'll lose track of one piece of clothing? _retorted Merlin, grinding forward in a way that made his lover hiss and instinctively squeeze Merlin's bottom.

_You forget, _said Mordred, trailing love bites down Merlin's neck, _I've observed you working in the castle for nearly a year. Powerful sorcerer or not, I know how you are._

The older man grinned. _Should I be insulted by the lack of confidence _[he ran his hands, lips, and tongue all the way down from Mordred's collarbone to his navel] _or flattered at the attention?_

_Oh, just shut up and kiss me. _Mordred yanked Merlin up, crashing their mouths together, teeth colliding and tongues battling. The force of their competition for dominance soon resulted in a tumble and a heap of entangled limbs sprawled over the wet grass. The two men lay beside each other for a moment, giggling. Lightning momentarily lit up the sky with a fiery bolt. Thunder rolled.

The grin Merlin turned towards Mordred was boyish and passionate, as was the grin returned by Mordred. Rolling over, Merlin positioned himself over Mordred, feeling the smack of rain against his backside. He dove down for another wet kiss.


	33. The End of Vacation

_Author's Note: Lots of stuff going on lately, so I basically had to just sit myself down and write this up in one sitting. I hope you like it! Thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers. You really make this journey worth it._

* * *

The next two days went by quickly. The quiet ease of vacation was a much-needed rest for the warlock and knight, and they made the most of it. They spent their time taking leisurely walks, socializing with the villagers, and relaxing at home with Hunith. Mordred became very fond of Hunith very quickly. She accepted him completely, making him feel like he belonged, like he was important and had a voice. She was interested in knowing more about him, but never pushed him to say more than he wanted.

They had grown so close over the three-day period that when it came time for Merlin and Mordred to leave, he felt confident enough to initiate a farewell hug. Being held in her arms gave him comfort, and he found himself wishing that they didn't have to go so soon.

Alas, they _did_ have to, and so they departed, calling goodbye to those who stood outside, waving them off. That night they were back in their own beds in Camelot, dreaming of a peaceful village in Essetir.

* * *

"So where'd you go to for the last five days?" asked Percival as they walked together to the armory.

"I spent my leave in the forest," Mordred lied, "camping out on my own. You remained in the city, didn't you?"

Percival nodded. "Don't have any family left, and all my friends are here, so there didn't seem much reason to go anywhere. And I was able to do some good."

"How do you mean?"

"For the knights with wives and children," he explained, "I spent a few days taking care of some of the kids so that they could spend time alone with their women. Or, in Anders case, his wife passed away a few years back, leaving him alone with a little girl, and I stayed with her one day so he could take some time off for himself. It's rough on him, being a full-time father."

Mordred shook his head with a smile. "Percival, you are truly one of the kindest men I've ever had the honor of knowing."

"Nah, it was completely selfish, really," disagreed Percival with a grin. "I love children. Wish I had one or two of my own."

"Do you think someday you might?" Mordred inquired.

The other man shook his head, eyes turning down sadly. "Doesn't seem likely." He put a smile back on his face. "But that's why I've got friends with kids, so I can spend time with 'em and spoil 'em rotten." Mordred chuckled. "You know, I actually promised Anders I'd watch his girl again tonight. You should come along."

Mordred turned towards him, surprised. "Me? Why?"

"I think you'll like her. She's the sweetest soul. Come with me, it'll be a treat."

Considering the offer, Mordred soon said, "I think you're right. I'd very much like to join you."

"That's the spirit," encouraged Percival, wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulders. "You'll be glad you said yes, I promise."

* * *

"You'll be okay here with Percival and Mordred while I go out, won't you, Mira?"

The small, flaxen-haired girl of four years nodded at her father. Anders turned to the other two knights with a crooked grin. "Thank you both for this."

"We're glad to do it," Percival replied honestly.

"I reckon on comin' back late, so just put her to bed at a reasonable time. She usually gets drowsy early in the night. If she has any trouble sleeping, just tuck her doll in beside her, and maybe tell her a story."

"Got it. Doll, story."

"Then I'll be off. Goodnight, little darling," he said, hugging his daughter. Nodding to Percival and Mordred, Anders was out the door, likely headed for the tavern. Percival immediately turned a bright smile towards the girl, crouching down to be nearer her height.

"And how are you this evening, Mira?" he asked formally.

"Quite well, thank you," she answered. Mordred smiled at her proper tone. She turned to him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Mordred," he introduced, reaching down a hand. She took it, her small hand dwarfed in his. "What's yours?

"Mirabelle."

"That is a beautiful name. It's very nice to meet you."

"Are you also a knight like Papa?"

"Yes, I am."

"Can I see your sword?"

Eyebrows lifted, Mordred was at a loss for words, but luckily he was spared. Grinning, with a twinkle in his eyes, Percival swept Mirabelle up into his arms. She squealed in delight as she swung through the air, and then he held her perched against his hip, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Now I've told you, swords are dangerous," he said sternly.

"But I want to _hold_ one," she complained. "They're pretty."

"I think my sword might be a little heavy for you to lift," said Mordred. "But if you wait a few years until you're all grown up, I'll gladly let you hold it."

She asked, "Do you promise?", an endearingly severe expression on her chubby cheeks. Mordred smiled.

"I promise."

"She'll hold you to that, you know," Percival warned.

"I would expect nothing less."

Percival shared a smile with his friend. "All right, little lady," he announced, striding into the kitchen where he plopped her on the table. "How do you feel about supper?"

"Okay!"

Mordred leaned against the table beside her. "And what are you making us, Sir Knight?" Percival shot him an amused glance.

"Not going to help me at all, huh? Just gonna watch as I slave away to put food into your mouth." Percival began to rustle through the kitchen, preparing their meal.

"_I'll_ help," Mira declared happily. "I'm good at cooking."

Mordred leaned towards her. "Then you are much more talented than I," he divulged. She giggled. Her eyes turned to the top of his head. Suddenly she reached out, ruffling his hair enthusiastically. Again at a loss, Mordred's lips pulled up in a restrained, amused smile, and he stayed still so she could reach.

"I like your hair," she announced, still running her hands all through his locks.

"Oh, thank you, Mirabelle. I'm glad that you do."

"It's soft and fluffy, like a doggie." Percival let out a bark of laughter. Mordred shot him a look. "_He _doesn't _have _any hair," the girl continued accusingly, turning over her shoulder to pout at Percival. He rolled his eyes, extending his long arm to ruffle her hair much as she'd been doing to Mordred. Squealing again, she squirmed away from his hand and grabbed his muscled bicep firmly to stop him. Smirking, he slowly retracted his arm, Mira clutching it all the while, being carried through the air, until he set her down beside him.

"Well, I'm really very sorry about that," he teased. "I'll grow some out just for you, Mira, all right?"

"Okay." The little girl beamed, taking his hand in hers and planting a loud kiss on his palm. He tapped her gently on the nose in return.

"So you want to help?" She nodded energetically. "Well then here's what I need you to do…"

* * *

There was a knock at Mordred's door. His head turned towards it, but he said nothing and did nothing.

"Mordred?" a familiar voice called quietly. Still he didn't respond, staying planted in his seat, dropping his head back into his hands. His fingers massaged his scalp with too much force, trying to rid himself of his plaguing thoughts. His teeth ground together.

_Mordred?_ Now the damn fool was in his head. Mordred growled. Could he not understand that Mordred wanted to be left alone? _Mordred, please, are you in there? I'm getting seriously worried._

The knight's jaw clenched even tighter. Merlin shouldn't be worried about him. Merlin shouldn't care about him at all; he wasn't worth it. _No _one should care about him. Sometimes Mordred forgot how worthless and terrible he truly was, but eventually he would remember. As he had tonight, after meeting Mirabelle.

"_Papa got hit by an arrow once. He was on patrol. They thought he would die."_

"_That must have been terribly hard on you."_

"_But he got better. I knew he would. After Mama died he promised he'd never leave me. Papa always keeps his promises. So he got better."_

Mordred squeezed his eyes tighter, though it did no good in banishing the visions of other memories that refused to leave him alone. Perhaps because a part of him welcomed them, clung to them, despite the way they tore him up inside.

He saw blood, and murder. Faceless knights flying through the air, or being impaled on their own swords and spears. He saw the lights leave their eyes. He saw himself, standing over their bodies, smiling. Proud of his work. Proud of the corpses he left behind, the corpses of men he judged worthy of death.

The door rattled, but Mordred had locked it. This didn't stop a warlock like Merlin long, however, and soon the lock clicked open and Merlin strode into the room.

"Why haven't you answered me?" he demanded immediately. He came to stand by the table near the younger man, rigid. "I've been trying to make contact with you for over an hour. You've had me worried sick. You _must_ have heard me." Mordred glared up at him with cold eyes. "Tell me what's going on."

"Why do you care?" sneered Mordred. Merlin gaped at him.

"How can you ask me that? Why _wouldn't_ I? Of _course_ I care."

"You shouldn't."

"Mordred, what is this about?" he asked sternly.

"Do you remember how we first met after I'd grown?" demanded Mordred, standing swiftly to his feet. "I was with a band of men who _kidnapped_ you with the intent of delivering you to _Morgana_. Men who made their business in the world trading in _slaves_. Do you not remember?"

Though he still didn't understand what was going on, Merlin steadily answered, "I remember you saving our lives by ordering those men to stop."

Bitter laughter rang out. Sneering, the knight shook his head. "You choose to see it that way now, but at the time you were not so _quick_ to defend me."

"I didn't know you then," Merlin retorted. "All I knew were old memories and visions of a future wreathed in flames. How could I have behaved any differently?"

"You were right to see me as you did. I may have given you bread out of kindness, but it was no kindness to lead you to the Lady Morgana."

"And there you saved our lives _again_."

"I saved _your_ lives perhaps," agreed Mordred harshly. His eyes burned. "But there were other men brought to Ismere, as slaves. I did not save _them_. What did they matter to _me_, after all, those nameless faces?"

The anger radiating from him was powerful, but Merlin could see through this mask to the self-loathing hidden beneath it. His heart flooded with sadness. What could have happened to put his lover in such a foul temper? "Mordred, what's gotten into you?" he asked concernedly.

"It is as if you've forgotten the darkness inside of me, the darkness that _you yourself_ remarked upon not long after my return to Camelot," Mordred snapped. He leaned closer to Merlin, but the older man didn't flinch. "Well, _do_ not forget it! That is the man I am. I am a man who would ally with slave traders simply to further my own purposes."

"I know. I haven't forgotten anything. But it doesn't make you evil." Mordred scoffed, pacing away from Merlin. The warlock's eyes followed him sadly. "The truth is that… I have, inside me, the same capacity for darkness that you do."

Mordred spun around. "Don't _lie_ to me-"

"I'm not," Merlin interrupted firmly. "I- I wouldn't. The difference between us is only in the lives we've been given. I was lucky, _fortunate_ in my family and friends. I found a safe home here in Camelot. I got all the best I could have had. You didn't. That's the only difference. But inside, we're the same."

"You wouldn't say such things if you knew entirely what I was capable of."

Softly, Merlin replied, "Consider that it's _you_ who is unaware what _I_ am capable of." Mordred scoffed again, jaw and fists clenched angrily, looking down towards the floor. "What's wrong?" asked Merlin, becoming more desperate.

The druid smirked, meeting his gaze cruelly. "What do you mean?" he taunted. "I am only speaking the truth. Does the truth wound you?"

"Mordred, please." It was too calm to be considered begging, but the increasing anxiety inside of Merlin was eating away at him, and soon he _would _be begging. "Just talk to me. What's brought this on?"

Their eyes locked together for a long painful moment. Then Mordred's gaze wavered, the anger giving way to trembling, a sheen of tears in his eyes. He looked ten years younger. Seeing the change that had taken place, Merlin sighed, and wrapped his lover into a tender embrace.

"I'm not proud of the man I was," Mordred whispered by his ear, clinging to him. "You know this, Merlin, don't you? You believe it?"

"Yes. But I also believe that you're too hard on yourself."

Mordred drew back, but his fingers dug into Merlin's shoulders, as though Merlin were the only thing tethering him to reality. "As a boy, I… killed. Carelessly. Bandits… _Knights_." His voice broke on the word. "I…"

"I'm not without my share of sins as well," was the manservant's response. "Why dwell on those things?"

"How can I not? I thought…" His face twisted in agony. "…what did the lives of a few such men matter? But now I _know_ the knights, for I am one of them. I know them as brothers, and friends. I've met their families, their wives, their children, and I cannot help but think…" Tears rolled down his cheeks, his hands dropping limply by his sides. "Did I murder fathers? Brothers? Uncles? Were there children who wept when they did not return, as I wept for _my_ father?"

"Mordred…" The word was soft, almost a whisper, a sad prayer. Merlin brushed away the younger man's tears, cradling his face gently between two hands.

"I don't think I shall ever forgive myself," confessed Mordred, reaching up to grab one of Merlin's hands, squeezing. His blue eyes blazed into Merlin's, needing something. Understanding, perhaps, or even love. Not forgiveness. "Nothing I do, no matter how many lives I save or protect, nothing can ever redeem me from those actions."

"That's true," agreed Merlin frankly. "Redemption isn't something you can measure in numbers and weights. Saving the lives of a hundred men doesn't atone for the slaughter of a hundred others."

"Then how may we ever move on?" Mordred asked, almost smiling, but without humor. He felt broken.

"Because we have to," the warlock answered simply. "And because that isn't what redemption is about."

"If not that, then what?"

"It's about your heart." He took their clasped hands and brought them down, placing them on Mordred's chest, atop the heart beating there. "Your actions can be wrong, misguided but they don't make you evil. When you were young, you had reason to hate Uther and all he stood for, and you acted wrongly because of it. But now…"

Merlin smiled, brushing a thumb against Mordred's cheek. Mordred's watering eyes flicked intently between his.

"You _know_ that. You've accepted that what you did was wrong; you repent for the lives you ended. And you're not the same person you were. You wouldn't do the same anymore. Because your heart has mended." Pained, but feeling warmed by Merlin's words despite himself, Mordred's lips quivered into a watery smile. "You've already redeemed yourself, just by becoming the man that you are today. The beautiful, wonderful man that I fell in love with."

Mordred laced their fingers together, and then leaned forward, resting on Merlin's shoulder, burying his head in the crook of Merlin's neck. "Thank you," he whispered, "for accepting me when I can't accept myself." He sighed, allowing some of the tension to bleed from his body. Merlin's free hand wrapped around his back, rubbing soothing circles. He left gentle kisses on the crown of Mordred's head.

"It's going to be okay," Merlin murmured. "Everything will be okay."

"You'll stay tonight, won't you?"

"Of course." Merlin brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed feather-light kisses to the back of Mordred's hand. "I'll always be here when you need me. That's my promise to you."

Merlin guided the emotionally exhausted man to his bed, where he stripped them both down to their trousers and drew back the covers. He climbed in beside Mordred. With one breath of air—a trick he'd learned from the young knight—the room's candles flickered out. Merlin pulled the sheets up on top of them. Turning onto his side, Mordred rested his head on Merlin's chest, ear atop his heart.

When Merlin felt a sudden spot of wetness on his bare skin, he realized that Mordred was crying again. The arm he'd wrapped around Mordred's shoulders moved to run fingers delicately through his hair. Shifting down slightly, Merlin kissed first the top of Mordred's head, then his forehead. Gently taking hold of Mordred's chin, he tilted the young man's head up, surprising him with a strong kiss. Mordred gasped into his mouth, but moaned, throwing himself eagerly into the kiss as his body continued to shake from the tears still coming, halting his breaths. He pressed as close to Merlin as possible, grabbing him by the hair and clutching him tightly against Mordred's body.

Chest heaving, Mordred stopped, still holding firm on the older man's hair. Merlin's eyes bore into him, filled with calm curiosity and unrestrained passion. Mordred swallowed.

"Do you love me, Merlin?" he whispered.

Merlin smiled, nudging their noses together. "Yes."

"Shall you love me forever?"

"I do now, and I always will," he answered. "There is nothing I hold dearer in my heart than you Mordred. You are, and always will be, the truest love of my life."

The last word was barely finished before Mordred's lips were on his again, hungrily kissing him. He licked and bit, diving deep into the recesses of Merlin's mouth as Merlin eagerly pulled their bodies together, running his hands over Mordred's bare skin. Mordred rolled over top of Merlin, and leant down to kiss him deeply once more.

* * *

"A toast," Arthur Pendragon announced, raising his wine goblet. The rest of the banquet hall followed suit. "A toast to the future of a united kingdom, where all may live with freedom and justice. And a toast to the bravery and goodness of all who will bring us into this new dawn."

A chorus of "Aye"s and "Hear, hear"s rang out, and everyone drank. The goblets came back down, clunking on the table with satisfaction. The noise in the hall exploded, all the men in their best spirits, and eager to share those spirits loudly with others.

Leon wrapped an unusually affectionate arm around Mordred, smiling at him. "Enjoy this feast, Mordred," he advised, practically hollering to be heard. "Never forget these rare days."

"Aye," chimed in Gwaine, who sat across from Mordred, and with his arm similarly wrapped around Percival's shoulders. He nodded seriously. "These are the memories you'll think on in the heat of battle, when you don't know whether you'll be the next to be pierced by a sword. Take advantage while you can."

"All right, you two," scolded Percival. "No need to ruin his night with such talk."

"We're only trying to make sure the lad has a proper appreciation for it," Gwaine protested. "How often does he get to see the knights all so carefree and happy?"

"Well, he gets to see _you_ that way every time you're drunk silly," Percival retorted. "So, plenty." Gwaine glared at his friend, knocking his head about playfully.

"It's all right," Mordred cut in. "I understand how precious this night is. Tis a treat to see each smiling face. I… have come to see you, to see _all_ the knights, as my family." He smiled shyly. The other knights stared at him softly, proud and honored. "I cherish all memories of time spent with my family."

Leon ruffled his hair tenderly as Gwaine and Percival smiled sweetly at him. Mordred grinned, chuckling at the friendly behavior. The conversation turned to other things, and soon the four friends were all laughing quite energetically, exchanging stories and jokes. They had a wonderful time.

Later in the evening, Mordred took a rare moment of quiet to sneak a glance at Merlin. _As ever, you are truly stunning when you smile._

Merlin turned his gaze from the king and queen to Mordred, smiling even more widely. _As ever, you are an incorrigible flirt._ Mordred smirked.

_I was only speaking the truth._

_Flirt._

_Ah, you wouldn't have me any other way._

Merlin chuckled, but his eyes shone sincerely. _No. I wouldn't change a thing about you, Mordred._

_Nor I you._

_Tonight, would you like to-_

"Sire!" The loud call of a standing—and _drunk_—Sir Leon interrupted Merlin, and brought most in the hall to a hush, watching him address the king. The corners of Mordred's lips pulled up. Leon was wearing his mischievous smile, and given his inebriated state, Mordred knew that this was going to be good.

"What is it, Leon?" responded Arthur politely, though clearly wary of the wolfish grin spreading across Leon's reddened cheeks.

"If you would entertain the request of a humble knight, sire," said Leon, bowing his head in an obviously false show of deference, "I would be delighted to hear you recite verse, to demonstrate to the court how well your _poetry_ lessons with _Merlin_ have been progressing."

The resulting uproar was like nothing before. The room was bursting with delight, thunderous laughter and clanging plates and cups accompanying the energetic and incredulous grins of all. There were cries of, "Is it true, sire?" and "Aye, my lord! We are eager to hear!" and "Poetry? What else have you studied, sire, the dance?"

Arthur glared at his long-time friend over the raucous banquet table. Leon grinned back. Then Arthur slowly smiled, his eyes alight with an idea. He turned his head towards his beaming manservant, who was thoroughly enjoying Arthur's embarrassment and the crowd's pleasure.

"Merlin," he called. Merlin's attention snapped to him, eyes still twinkling with merriment. Now he looked slightly cautious.

"Uh… yes, my lord?"

"I see no reason why the student should perform when the master is present," he said, smiling innocently. "Why don't you give a show of your talents?"

Merlin gawked at him. He supposed it was his fault, in the end, but this was still highly unfair! What a prat. Merlin would've argued, but the catcalls were too loud to allow for it. The knights were already enjoying the show. Grinning, Arthur waved Merlin forward. "Come on, Merlin, don't be shy. Let's have some poetry!"

Biting his tongue to keep from sticking it out at the king, Merlin stepped towards the long table, as he had no choice but to do. The loud cries faded until they were a murmured hush, each and every pair of eyes in the hall glued to the young man's figure. Clearing his throat, Merlin improvised.

"There once was a king, so mighty and strong. It seemed to his subjects he could do no wrong. He brought peace and justice to all of the land. And where there was evil, he soon took a stand." Arthur's mocking smile had disappeared, and now his expression was soft. He was touched by his friend's words. Merlin ignored him, performing for the rest of the knights. "But what his subjects knew not, was that he was a prat. And if not for his servant, he would soon grow quite fat."

Merlin ducked the roll thrown at his head, popping back up with a wide, gleaming smile as the rest of the hall howled with laughter. Arthur and Merlin's friendship was well-known and appreciated. A very weighty glare was being directed at Merlin from the royals' table, but he simply waggled an eyebrow teasingly.

"Is that all you require, my lord?" he asked lightly.

"No," mused Arthur, smirking right back. "I do believe the stables need to be mucked out. Feeling up to the task?"

"What, _now_?" Merlin exclaimed.

"No, no, of course not. I would never deprive our excellent kitchen staff of a worker. You can start once you've finished your duties here. And be sure that it's done before you turn in for the night."

Merlin glared, unamused. "You are a grumpy man, _sire_."

"Perhaps I'd be jollier if I were fatter!" replied Arthur. "So if I'm grumpy, it's really your fault if you think about it."

"I'm not certain my lord's reason is well intact."

"Well I'm _certain _that _yours_ isn't."

Merlin shook his head, scowling, but his eyes smiled even as he tried to glare at the king. Arthur smirked, raising his glass mockingly towards Merlin, but in his eyes too there was a revealing gentleness.

The party continued.


	34. The Truth

_Author's Note: Hello, lovelies. As ever, all my gratitude to my fantastic followers and spectacular reviewers. You're all wonderful people whom I appreciate very much. Now, ahem... WARNING: Spoilers for S5E11. Have fun!_

* * *

It was very late at night when a disgruntled Merlin made his way into Mordred's room.

"Who would have known that poetry was yet another of your talents?" Closing the door behind him, Merlin glared at his lover. Mordred smirked, wrinkling his nose teasingly. "You smell _dreadful_."

"Yes, well that's what happens when I'm forced to muck out the stables in the dead of night, when I can barely see my own hands, let alone the manure I'm meant to be mucking."

"Why did you not simply use your magic?" asked Mordred, shaking his head as he chuckled. He stepped forward, sympathetically wiping his thumb across a dark smudge on Merlin's cheek. "You could have been done hours ago."

"Um, because I don't have a death wish?" the manservant retorted. Groaning, he lowered himself into a chair, sagging onto the table. "But I _feel_ dead."

"You're being a bit dramatic, Merlin."

"Yeah, tell me that again the next time _you_ spend a day with my workload only to have stable-mucking added on at the end of it." Smiling, Mordred leaned over the back of the chair, wrapping his arms around Merlin. "You'll get the stink on your_self_ if you do that," warned Merlin, grasping Mordred's arms despite his words, tracing his fingers lightly over the backs of Mordred's hands.

"Mmm," the druid agreed, nuzzling the side of Merlin's head. "Not to fear. Come, let's run up a bath for ourselves. It'll refresh you as well, help ease your aches."

"Wait, what do you mean 'ourselves'?"

"We need to get rid of this wretched stench before you pollute the rest of my chambers. We may as well share a bath. It'll conserve water."

Merlin laughed and stood, turning around to peck a chaste kiss on Mordred's lips. "Conserving water. Right. I'm _sure_ that's why you want to wash together."

"You object?" asked Mordred, lifting an eyebrow teasingly. He placed his hands on Merlin's waist and swayed closer.

The warlock grinned lasciviously. "I didn't say that." Mordred chuckled and met Merlin in a significantly-less-chaste kiss.

Twenty minutes later, the two men were submerged in hot bath water, slightly cramped in the small tub, but completely content. Mordred lay with his back pressed to Merlin's front, resting their heads together, side by side. Their toes played with each other under the water. Whispering "_Tosaramum_" under his breath, the knight melted with satisfaction as soapy bubbles frothed in the tub. The older man gave two bright bursts of laughter, wiggling his fingers and toes in the new addition to their bath.

"Handy," he murmured into Mordred's ear. The younger man smiled peacefully, nudging his nose against Merlin's cheek.

"I'm full of many other tricks just like it."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"We both know you only keep me around for my body."

"Oh yeah, that's right."

Mordred hummed drowsily. "Why else would you talk me into sharing a bath with you, completely bare? You've entirely corrupted my innocence."

"Mordred, I think your memory may be deserting you a bit."

"Tsk. I was fearful that might happen if I continued to spend my time with such an old man."

Merlin laughed. "You're making me sound like some sort of predator, you know that, right?"

"With my heart as the prey, perhaps," Mordred shot back. Shaking his head with amusement, Merlin kissed the top of Mordred's head, then yawned. They were both quite tired; the hour was very late.

"Before we became… this, I never would've guessed what a romantic sap you are."

"What can I say? You bring out the worst in me, Merlin."

"No," he disagreed, wrapping his arms around the knight. "I think it's the best."

"Very well." Mordred placed his arms atop Merlin's, eyes drifting closed sleepily. "I'm too tired to disagree."

"Nope, come on," Merlin encouraged, pushing gently against his lover's back. "We can't fall asleep in here."

"Can we not?" was the murmured reply.

"No. Up you go." Grumbling, Mordred let himself be shifted so Merlin could step out of the tub, dripping water onto the floor. Mordred sank back down beneath the bubbles. Merlin rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on." He grabbed Mordred by the arms, hauling him bodily up and out of the water, planting his feet on the solid ground. Mordred swayed where he stood until he was smacked in the face by a towel.

He took it, drying himself off, but still glared at Merlin, who was engaged in the same task. One wink was all it took to change his glare into a grin. They were soon settled in for the night.

* * *

Merlin set the two plates of chicken down onto the table, plopping into the seat across from the physician. Digging in, he didn't notice that Gaius was staring at him, obviously conflicted.

"Merlin…" he said slowly. He still hadn't touched his food. "Have I done something wrong?"

Looking up in shock, Merlin swallowed his last bite, wiping his greasy hands on a napkin. "What? No!" he responded vehemently. "What would make you think that?"

Gaius still looked sad and confused, eyes focused intently on the young man, as though hoping to find the answers he was looking for written across Merlin's face. "I can't understand why you wouldn't tell me when someone so important has clearly come into your life. Have I given you some reason to doubt me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I may be old, Merlin, but I am no fool. Did you think I wouldn't notice your absence on so many nights?" Merlin blushed, feeling rather foolish. "I had intended to wait for you to tell me in your own time, but it seems you didn't mean to tell me at all. Are you certain I haven't done something?"

"No, Gaius, no." Awash with guilt, Merlin shook his head firmly. "I swear. I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's not… I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't trust you or… care. It's just… We're doing our best to keep it quiet. I didn't think you needed to know. I'm sorry."

Looking slightly mollified, Gaius nodded. "You know that I am nothing but happy for you."

"Of course," the warlock assured, smiling sweetly. "I know that."

One eyebrow went up. "You _are_ happy, aren't you?" Merlin grinned crookedly.

"Very," he confirmed.

There was a pause as Gaius smiled as well, drinking this in. Then he said, "You're not going to tell me whom it is that makes you so happy, are you?"

"Ah… Gaius…"

"It's all right, Merlin." He held up a hand. "I don't mean to pry."

"No," protested Merlin. "Never. Just… I'm sorry, Gaius, just… give me some more time. It's all still new and confusing. But I promise, I don't want to hide it from you forever. I would have told you. And I _will_ tell you who it is, just… not yet."

"Well… In that case, eat up!" said Gaius. He smiled kindly. "That will simply be a discussion for another time."

* * *

Though Arthur Pendragon loved his wife dearly, and honestly couldn't fathom living without her, for five whole days he'd spent practically all his time with Guinevere, having been away from most of his closest friends. Now that the knights and Merlin were back, Arthur was eager to spend more time with them, just them. Though if anyone had asked him, he would have vehemently denied that any such sentiment was the reason behind his decision to lead a hunting party that included Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Mordred, and Merlin.

They rode out early in the day, as much a family as ever, conversing easily, sharing jokes and laughs. Gwaine told all about his adventures over the five day leave—half of which, at least, simply _had _to be fiction—and the rest contributed briefly with their own stories, though none were half so amusing as Gwaine's. Still, they talked and they hunted, their spirits even higher than usual due to their recent absence from each other.

"Well I think it's been a good trip," Arthur declared as they headed back for the citadel.

"Yeah," agreed Mordred. "We all caught something."

"Including Merlin," Gwaine contributed teasingly.

"What did he catch?"

"A cold," chimed in the stuffy voice of the man in question. His friends grinned.

"If you learned to track," said Leon, "you'd enjoy it more."

"I'm the best tracker here," Merlin shot back.

_Ah, if they only knew how true_, Mordred commented, chuckling along with the knights, but for an entirely different reason.

_Really, I_-

Percival held up a hand, signaling for a halt, and Merlin let his sentence go unfinished.

The hunting party came to a stop. Percival was the first to dismount, followed soon by the king and all the rest. The previously light and friendly atmosphere was fast dissipating into a tense air of worry. Merlin held a crossbow, with which he could actually do little harm, and all the knights armed themselves, holding their swords aloft as they carefully prodded forward.

It didn't take long to discover the remains of a shipment to Camelot that had clearly come under attack, probably from Saxons. A wagon lay overturned, and knights lay dead, arrows sticking out of their corpses. With heavy hearts, the six men walked through the broken wood and bodies, closing the eyes of the dead and observing all else that was strewn about.

"They were after the cargo," announced Arthur. "Weapons bound for Camelot."

_She'll strike soon_, warned Mordred. Hearing the conflict and pain in his lover's voice, Merlin watched him turn and stride quietly away. Mordred didn't even have the strength to look at Merlin. Though it saddened him, he knew it was best to let Mordred be alone for the moment. He turned to Arthur instead.

"Morgana?" he suggested.

"This close to the city walls?" returned Gwaine disbelievingly. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from telling Gwaine that for many months she _had_ been this close to the city walls.

Mordred felt the familiar ache inside of him. This was Morgana's work, undoubtedly. The war must be coming soon. And a war was the last thing that Mordred wanted. Though he had declared his loyalties to Arthur, and would stand by that, he was conflicted inside. He still loved Morgana despite everything, and he did want the freedom for his people that she sought. But Arthur was a good man, as were Mordred's friends, the knights. And Merlin. They fought for justice, peace in all the lands, and these too were noble goals.

Mordred didn't want to be on either side of this war. He knew which side he _would_ be on, but he knew also that it would tear his heart in two, inflicting lasting damage that he honestly didn't know if he would recover from.

His eyes drifted upwards, barely seeing. He did a double take. Sure enough, a cloaked figure suddenly broke into a run, running away from the carnage of the attack. Mordred let his instincts take over and he immediately raced after them, forgetting to call the others. He rushed through the trees, feeling the air whip past his face and hearing the comforting crinkle of leaves beneath his boots. He was only a few steps behind.

The Saxon suddenly tripped, falling to the forest floor. Mordred came to a standstill, reached down, and spun them around, sword pointed threateningly. Then he saw her face.

Mordred's jaw dropped, the mind-numbing confusion pulling his eyebrows together. The young woman on the ground was just as stunned as he.

"Kara," he said dumbly. Then his eyes widened, as he remembered. "Go." Motionless, she stared up at him in shock. "Kara, _go_," he urged.

Kara stumbled to her feet, following the gestures of his sword and fleeing into the forest. Mordred's heart pounded frightfully hard within his chest, his emotions all awhirl. He could barely breathe, let alone think. The only feeling he could process was _relief_, relief that she'd gotten away, that she'd run. He watched her go, forcing his feet to return the way he'd come. He looked up to find the knights jogging into sight.

"What happened?" Arthur asked.

"I thought I saw someone," he answered. "I was wrong, probably a deer."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Arthur took him at his word. "Move out!" Mordred spared one last look for the way that Kara had disappeared before following his king.

_Mordred_. He paused, looked towards Merlin. The warlock's face was blank as he met Mordred's eyes. Mordred forced his expression to give nothing away, hoping he looked just as innocent as he wasn't. _What happened?_

All thought processes were failing him. He couldn't think right now, he didn't know what to do, he was confused, and surprised, and overwhelmed, and the words were echoing in his mind before he knew what he was doing. _Nothing, Merlin_. His heart burned as he heard the lie within his own head. _Just what I told Arthur._

Having nothing further to say—and praying to the gods that Merlin would pursue the matter no further—Mordred turned and walked away, not knowing just how lost, angry, and heartbroken he was leaving the man behind him.

* * *

Merlin had the entire ride back to Camelot to contemplate what he'd seen. It was lucky for him that all of his companions were subdued and downcast, as it meant that Merlin didn't stand out from the crowd.

But on the inside, he was in a much worse state than any other present.

He knew what he'd seen. That had been no deer. It was clearly a man. And Mordred had let him escape. A _Saxon_. One of Morgana's allies, and Mordred had let them go. He'd lied to the king.

More importantly, he'd lied to Merlin. Lied right to his face. After having sworn never to lie again. He'd promised, _promised_ to be honest with Merlin, always. Merlin had given him a chance. He'd asked Mordred outright for the truth, and Mordred had _lied _to him without a second thought. It disturbed Merlin on a deep, deep emotional level that Mordred could lie to him so easily, even now.

Merlin tried to organize his thoughts into something resembling order. This proved difficult as so much of his energy was already being used to keep himself from reacting out loud, physically, the way he wanted to. It was a struggle not to throw Mordred from his saddle and shove him against a tree trunk until he talked. But that was something he couldn't do, so instead he decided to focus on the facts, just the facts. He pushed his emotions aside as best he could. What did he know for certain?

One. That Mordred loved him. Of this Merlin had no doubt. Casually lying was one thing. The total deception necessary to fake being in love with Merlin was on another level entirely. That was a skill Mordred didn't have, a con he could never have pulled off. His feelings were genuine. Merlin knew this in his heart, as sure as anything.

Two. Despite proclaiming and convincing Merlin of an allegiance to Arthur, Mordred had let someone escape, and then lied to Arthur about it, clearly hiding something. All likelihood suggested that the "someone" was a Saxon, an ally of Morgana's, Arthur's enemy.

Three. Mordred had allied with Morgana in the past—albeit for noble reasons. But he still harbored tender affections towards the witch, and Merlin knew that he sympathized with her cause, whether or not he still supported it. Ergo, Mordred was likely to sympathize with Morgana's followers, those who wished to bring down Camelot.

Four. Mordred had blatantly lied to him. There was obviously something about the truth that Mordred felt unable to share, and so he'd broken his vow to Merlin and lied to him.

What else could it be but Mordred choosing to protect a Saxon over being honest with the man who loved him? The only logical conclusion Merlin could reach was this:

Mordred loved Merlin, but knew Merlin would never be with him so long as he kept allegiance with Morgana. In order to win Merlin back, he pretended to sever relations with her, when the truth, in fact, was that he still supported Morgana's cause and intended to follow through with his own destiny. That was the only explanation of all of the facts. Why else would Mordred love Merlin, but lie to him, and let a Saxon go free? It was the only possible answer.

Which meant that Merlin had been deceived, yet again. Mordred's goals hadn't shifted one bit since he first revealed his fate to Merlin, he'd only _pretended _they had so that Merlin would be with him. Which meant that Merlin had again been involved with a man who was planning to kill his best friend.

Merlin was mad enough to spit fire. He ached to scream until his throat was raw and bleeding. How could this be happening _again_? _How_?! Would there never be any true happiness for Merlin? Was history _always_ destined to repeat itself? His love had betrayed him. Had _been_ betraying him. Merlin had allowed his guilt and his love to sway his thoughts, and he'd given in when he clearly shouldn't have, because Mordred was guilty of _everything that Merlin had been afraid of_. Every single thing that Mordred had _promised_ he wasn't.

His only consolation was that he had learned of it now, before Mordred got the chance to slay Arthur.

The warlock was cold, inside and outside. He let the ice of true rage freeze his heart. He was too angry to feel anymore. There was only cold calculation. All warmth had been locked away in the heart that was now cut off from him.

Upon the party's return, it was easy for Gaius to see that his apprentice was distracted, but when Merlin divulged to him the nature of his concerns, Gaius brushed them aside. Merlin shook his head with empty smiles, knowing that, as usual, he would be right and Gaius would be wrong. Trusting Mordred had been a mistake.

Whether or not he still worked intimately with Morgana was something Merlin didn't know, but it was clear now that Mordred still sided with her, to the point of letting her people—those who'd murdered knights Mordred had _claimed_ to consider as family—go free from justice. Well Merlin was done falling for the young druid's tricks. He needed only to confront Mordred.

Somehow, he was glad that Gaius had errands to run. He wasn't ready to confront Mordred just yet.


	35. Paranoia

_Author's Note: Thank you guys for your reviews! I apologize for the return of angst. I offer a free hug for all who want one *holds arms out*. WARNING: More spoilers for S5E11. Please leave your thoughts. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Watching carefully, Mordred waited until Gaius and Merlin were gone to creep around the door. He entered the physician's chambers, taking one last glance around before heading towards the medicine cabinets.

It wasn't really stealing, he told himself. Well… perhaps it _was_, but it was for a cause he knew Merlin would support. Would _probably_ support. Mordred wasn't always sure of the extent of Merlin's loyalties to the king. What would matter to him more, that Kara was an injured druid who would be killed if found, or that she was partially responsible for an attack on Camelot's knights?

He'd thought of telling Merlin what was going on, but quickly talked himself out of it. There was no need; it would only complicate matters. Mordred simply needed to help her heal, and then she would be gone, no one the wiser and no one hurt for it. In the meantime, why put that burden on Merlin, the conflict that it was sure to bring to light in him? If Mordred asked, he knew that Merlin wouldn't report Kara to the king, but he also knew that Merlin wouldn't like it. He'd rather spare Merlin that pain.

There was, as well, a small part of him that shied away from the notion of confiding in Merlin simply because the idea twisted his stomach so uncomfortably. Telling his present lover about his childhood sweetheart wasn't particularly a conversation he was eager to have, especially when he was in the middle of helping said sweetheart to escape his lover's best friend's justice.

No, it was best this way. It hurt him to lie, but if all would be better off for it, including Merlin, was it not justified?

Mordred's eyes and fingers skimmed the collection of bottles, shifting through them. A memory came to him. It wasn't from recent days, but from the first span of time in which he and Merlin had been together, before destiny and fate caused them to fall apart.

"_Shouldn't you know all about this stuff?" asked Merlin, looking up from his work to smile at Mordred, who sat on the bench in front of him, keeping him company whilst Gaius was out. "I mean, as a druid, surely you were taught about plants and herbs used in medicines."_

"_I can identify most plants easily enough, but I know nothing of the finished tonics you're handling now," Mordred answered. "My skills were… in areas much different than healing."_

"_Hmm. All right. In that case, I think it's time for you to get some lessons!"_

_Chuckling, Mordred asked, "Why?"_

_Merlin shrugged. "It's always good to have a working knowledge of medicine. Never know when it might come in handy. Trust me. Stand up, come over here with me."_

_Sighing exaggeratedly, Mordred rose and sauntered around the table to stand with the young physician. He wrapped his arms around Merlin's middle and rested his chin on his shoulder._

"_Now look." Merlin picked up two bottles he'd been working with, both unlabeled, holding them aloft. They looked identical, the same exact milky white color. "These two look to be the same, right?"_

"_Mm."_

_Merlin uncorked both bottles then held the first to Mordred's nose. "Smell it. What's it like?"_

"…_Like… rosemary with… oranges, perhaps?"_

"_And this one?"_

"_Oh, _gods_!" Mordred's head flew back, exhaling air through his nose in a vain attempt to rid himself of the putrid scent. Merlin laughed exuberantly at him. "A bit of warning wouldn't have gone amiss, Emrys."_

"_Sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all. "That's the point I'm trying to make. Never assume. See, the first one"—He held up the again stoppered bottle—"is a harmless draft to keep you from sleepwalking, and the second one—your favorite, I know—is treatment for lungworm. But if you take it and you _don't_ have lungworm, you'll feel like your intestines are on fire, you won't be able to sleep for days, and you'll be ill for over a week."_

"_Sounds ghastly."_

"_So it's important to know exactly what you're dealing with," Merlin lectured, turning about to face Mordred, shooting the younger man a very serious look to make sure he was following along. Reassured that he was, Merlin smiled and took his hand, leading him over to the medicine cabinet, which was already stocked with supplies. "That was just an example, but probably not anything you'll ever need to worry about. All the tonics in here have labels, which will also hopefully be true of any you may need in the future. I'm gonna show you some of the more common ones, used for simple illnesses and injuries."_

"_Are you sure—" Mordred ran his hands down Merlin's arms. "—you wouldn't rather—" He nuzzled at Merlin's neck, planting a light kiss. "—be occupied with something else?"_

"_Mordred." The warlock's voice carried a warning, though the tone was light. He turned to the knight with a fondly stern expression. "I want you to pay attention and take this seriously. Please."_

"_When shall I ever need to know these things?" Mordred asked. "I'm not a physician."_

"_I told you, it's good to know. And in case, some day, you get hurt and I'm not there to take care of you." Merlin's voice had gone soft. "You never know what might happen."_

_Recognizing how serious his lover was, Mordred nodded, putting his hands up for Merlin to see before locking them behind himself. "I'll behave," he promised. Merlin rewarded him with a quick kiss._

"_Thanks. You might want to take notes, because there _will _be a test at the end of this." Mordred playfully shoved the grinning man. Then Merlin began his lesson, sorting through the various medicines and explaining their uses, while Mordred paid close attention._

Snatching two bottles, Mordred's memory assured him that they were the ones he wanted. Hiding them behind his back, he furtively stole from the room, feeling his insides ache as he took one last look.

* * *

That night Mordred snuck from the city and made his way into the forest. It was easy to find Kara once they'd established telepathic communication. Her leg was injured from an arrow, just as he'd thought, and he used the stolen medicine to clean the wound and begin the healing process.

Seeing Kara was like having a candle lit in the oppressive darkness of his past. Normally he tried to escape those days, forget them entirely, but Kara was perhaps the one good piece of it, and he was glad that they'd found one another. Only now did he realize how terribly he'd missed her.

He felt an old flicker in his heart when her sparkling blue eyes met with his, but it didn't bother him. His heart belonged totally to Merlin now. Kara was only a precious and true friend whose presence caused a mere echo of past love to resonate inside of the druid man. He did still love her, but not in the same way.

The only unpleasant part of their time together was in realizing how _else_ things had changed: namely, that Mordred _had_ changed since they were children, and Kara had _not_. She firmly held to the beliefs they'd once shared, and couldn't understand Mordred's honest affection for the king, incredulous towards the beliefs that Mordred now held. He couldn't blame her. She had nothing to base her opinions on other than the terror of Uther's reign and the still present magical ban. But Mordred knew better, and only wished he knew how to impart that knowledge onto her.

He stayed the night in the cave, unwilling to leave her alone. They slept side by side on the cold hard ground. Kara curled comfortably into his side, resting a hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder. Covering them both with his cape, Mordred placed his own hand on top of hers, and wrapped the other arm around her, hoping that his embrace might keep her safe through the night.

* * *

If Mordred thought that Merlin hadn't noticed his absence from the castle the previous night, he was horribly mistaken, and more foolish than Merlin could have dreamed possible. He was obviously too cocky in his belief that Merlin's trust in him was unshakable.

It only boiled Merlin's blood further that Mordred had not only let a Saxon escape, but had now visited them in the dead of night, presumably giving them aid and assistance. In Merlin's mind, this was proof enough of his loyalties. When Mordred rounded the corner, Merlin was waiting for him, ready now for the confrontation.

"Where have you been?"

The knight stopped, eyes turning slowly towards the open doorway where Merlin stood casually. "Nowhere."

"You're lying," replied Merlin, smiling amusedly, but without any of the affection Mordred was so used to. There was something cold, dead, in those eyes. The sight chilled Mordred to the bone. The man standing in front of him was an enemy.

His mind roared simultaneously with overwhelming guilt at the lies, the need to protect Kara at all costs, and the need not to get _caught_ in the lie he'd already told, lest it bring about the end of his relationship with Merlin. These were passionately conflicting thoughts that caused his pulse to pound and his mouth to unthinkingly expel, in the scathingly self-righteous tones of incredulity that are so often employed by the guilty,

"What right have you… to question me?" The answer was, of course, that Merlin had every right, and Mordred knew that all too well. He'd made a vow not to lie, and he'd broken that vow.

The warlock shrugged mockingly. Refusing to give in, Mordred hoped with every ounce of his soul that this was only Merlin's paranoia acting up, as it sometimes did, that it wasn't based on any solid facts.

_That paranoia no longer affects him_. He silenced this traitorous thought, clinging to the hope that Merlin still didn't know anything for sure, and a bit of well-placed guilt would make him cave, giving in to Mordred's distress.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. His honest sadness at the situation was seeping through, but he forced his words to remain on the offensive defense. He needed to hit Merlin hard. Even if that meant another lie… "Everything I do, you think the worst." _Once, but not anymore_.

His hopes burned to the ground when Merlin, unfazed, stepped towards him. "I saw you," he answered, "let a Saxon go."

Mordred couldn't meet Merlin's eyes. Not for the life of him could he do it. He'd been caught, found out. Would Merlin let this be the end of them? One well-intentioned lie? Could he be that stubborn?

Of course he could.

This wasn't fair. He'd only been trying to do the _right_ thing; he'd wanted to _help_, to protect both Kara and Merlin. And now he was being punished for it, and he didn't even have the right to complain.

"Maybe I should tell Arthur."

"_Merlin_," he interjected quickly, forcing himself to look up. This wasn't about himself, it was about Kara. "She's a druid." The slightest narrowing of Merlin's eyes displayed his confusion. It was enough to give him pause, so Mordred went on. "I _knew_ her. She was wounded. What could I do,"—Almost scoffing, Merlin looked aside—"let her be captured? She had an arrow in her leg, she cannot _walk_."

"You're taking a risk," Merlin pointed out.

"Can't let her die. She's…"

The manservant's eyes were fixed intently on him now, and he swallowed nervously. What could he say?

"…someone… "

This was _precisely_ the conversation he _hadn't_ wanted to have. He looked up, feeling the uncomfortable beat of his heart against his ribs.

"Well I can't explain."

"_Where_ is she?" asked Merlin assertively.

Instead of answering his question, Mordred said, "She needs a few days." Merlin shook his head with a smile. "She'll be gone, she means no harm. Please, you mustn't tell anyone."

Merlin considered his lover. This was a possibility his mind hadn't been able to conjure. But it made sense, it all made sense. And while it didn't absolve Mordred of his lies, perhaps it meant that it wasn't all so dire as Merlin had feared. This druid girl could be the one exception. It was obvious from Mordred's uncharacteristic lack of words that she'd been someone special in his past, someone that he'd loved.

Unfortunately, that thought—someone he'd loved whom he _just spent the night with_—twisted Merlin's gut with worry and jealousy, making it harder for him to concentrate on _understanding_, on making decisions. He forced himself out of the cold manner of their conversation's start, but held himself back from being friendly as normal, in case his faculties were failing him. It was best to play this out and think on it later, when his thoughts weren't so clouded by emotions and revelations.

"You know if Arthur catches her, she'll be killed. _Please_, Merlin, I beg you." Seeing no response, Mordred quieted his voice slightly and added, "She's one of us."

Even this garnered no reaction. Becoming anxious—Merlin couldn't truly be so cruel as to turn her in, he couldn't—Mordred switched tactics again. "Promise me," he demanded. His heart ached at the reminder that he'd broken his own promise to Merlin, but he ignored it. This promise was for Kara, and he trusted Merlin to keep it once given.

"Your secret is safe with me," said Merlin, mimicking Mordred's own words. Mordred inhaled deeply, breath stuttering slightly. Merlin's eyes had lost most of their cold edge, no longer looking like the enemy he'd been at the beginning of their acquaintance. The knight was filled with relief. "You have my word."

"Merlin!"

The sound of their friend's voice quickly set Mordred on his way. Where normally he might have stayed to chat, to joke with Arthur or blatantly tease Merlin, now wasn't the time for it, and he made his way to his chambers with great haste, feeling Merlin's eyes on his back. When he arrived, he closed the door behind him and sagged against it, sliding down to the floor where he sat in a ball for many long minutes, trembling ever so slightly.

* * *

Merlin tried his best to keep Arthur from finding the girl, he truly did, but Arthur Pendragon with his mind set to a task is more stubborn than any mule. In the end, they found her tucked away in a cave. For a few wonderful seconds, Merlin thought everything would be fine. Arthur had put away his sword, and then went forward to help her, as she was limping.

Then she pulled a dagger. Merlin's magic was all that saved Arthur's life.

And he knew in that moment that something had been lost to him forever, and he had a feeling that something was Mordred. He experienced a deep surge of anger towards this girl, almost hate, for trying to murder his closest friend and for having cost him so much in so little time. He walked along in utter devastation as Arthur restrained the druid and brought her back to the citadel with them.

Three times on the journey he tried to reach out, to warn Mordred that they were coming, the girl in tow. But each time he couldn't. Even silently, he couldn't speak the words. They filled him with a gut-wrenching sorrow and anxiety, and even the thought of saying them made him blink moisture out of his eyes. He simply couldn't do it, despite how much he knew he should, if only to _explain_, to tell Mordred that it _wasn't his fault_. The words never came. Merlin hated himself for his cowardice.

As they reached the stone steps at the foot of the castle, Arthur called for guards to take her to a cell. Still struggling—Merlin did admire the fight she had in her, if nothing else—she was dragged away by two men. Merlin and Arthur lingered for a moment on the stairs, conversing quietly about what had happened and what the trial would entail.

Just as they turned to go, Merlin's eyes spotted someone watching them from a window high up. His stomach dropped as Mordred met his gaze for one brief second—and then he was gone from sight. Shivering, Merlin took a deep breath to compose himself, and then followed Arthur inside.

* * *

A fitful night's sleep served to increase Merlin's anxiety and anger, until it was not only the girl he was angry with for having tried to kill Arthur, and thereby having dealt perhaps a fatal blow to his relationship with Mordred, but Mordred himself.

If that one look shared from a distance had told him anything, and if he knew the knight as well as he was certain he did, Mordred would blame Merlin for this. He would use it as a reason to toss Merlin aside, and return his heart to the druid girl. Already her situation must be tearing on Mordred's tender heartstrings, reawakening the love he'd once felt for her. For a sympathetic soul like Mordred's, it was easy to love someone in pain, in danger.

So it was that Merlin was both bitter and unsurprised when a figure lunged out of the side corridor, grabbing Merlin's jacket and slamming him up against a pillar. Mordred's eyes burned predictably with hate.

"Why?" he demanded wildly.

The two men were both roiling in a violently emotional state. Their responses to this, however, were well juxtaposed: the younger man's self-control was completely gone, his emotions running freer than they ever had before, while the older man's control was steadfast, his emotions remaining firmly under lock and key.

"I didn't tell him."

"You gave me your word!"

"I swear!" He emphasized this last by shoving Mordred off.

The air between them was rank with tension. It felt so wrong to be meeting in this way. Yet, what else could Mordred do? He'd been betrayed by the one man he'd loved and dared to truly trust. He'd never thought that…

Mordred glared at the warlock, unsure if he was angrier with Merlin, or with himself for being naïve enough to believe that Merlin was a better sort of man than himself, or anyone else for that matter. How could he have been so wrong about him? He'd loved too much, trusted too entirely, and it had burned him. He'd never felt more like a foolish child.

"You did it because you hate me," he seethed, stomping forward.

Merlin raised a hand between them with a steady, "No." His gaze was firm, trying to instill sense and calm back into his lover. They both knew that Mordred was only lashing out in his fury with false accusations, but Mordred had no intention of apologizing.

_So much I have forgiven you_, Mordred thought to himself, not extending the message to Merlin's mind. _All your distrust, even your attempts on my life, but… _"This time you've gone too far," he snarled. This was one thing he would never, _could_ never, forgive. Such a betrayal cut him more deeply than an attempt on his own life. Now, an innocent woman, one who Mordred loved, was to die because Mordred had been gullible enough to put his faith in someone. "You'll pay, Merlin."

"What's going on?" interrupted Gwaine.

Merlin turned his head to their knight friends approaching.

"What's this about?" Leon asked.

Mordred barely glanced at them before his eyes were again fixed on the manservant. Merlin stared back at him coldly, daring him to speak. The druid bit out a sharp, "Nothing." Still in a rage, Mordred stomped away, shoving between Gwaine and Leon as he left.

The two older knights looked to Merlin in confused shock. They'd never seen Mordred in such a state, and they knew Merlin and Mordred to be good friends. Merlin straightened his collar, taking a moment to once again rein in his potentially explosive emotions.

"Merlin?" prodded Gwaine.

With a fake smile, Merlin echoed Mordred's response. He walked away, leaving too men wallowing in concern for their friends.

* * *

_Kara…_ His voice echoed down through the floors to the dungeons below. Mordred wished with all his heart that he could go down and see her, but he wasn't a fool.

_Mordred_.

His eyelids fluttered closed, and already one tear escaped him, trickling down his cheek. He couldn't think of anything to say.

_My leg has healed_, she said, when his silence dragged on. _Thank you for taking care of me._

_This is my fault_, he returned, more hot tears joining the first. _I should have protected you._

_You couldn't have known._

_I _should _have known._

_You may have powerful magic, but you're not a seer. Please, do not blame yourself for what has happened to me. Only I and your king are responsible._

_You'll have a trial tomorrow, _Mordred told her. _Arthur is a good man. He'll show you mercy. _There was quiet, and this time Mordred couldn't go on, because even he didn't know if he believed his own words. The knowledge made him sick.

_...Do you not grow tired of defending him? _Her words were cautious and gentle._ Mordred… what's happened to you?_

_What do you mean?_

_Once you believed in the right of our people to live freely._

_I still believe in that._

_You were willing to fight for us, _she went on, _and now you…_

Mordred's teeth clenched. _I what?_

_You think such a man could be your friend, and allow that to mar your judgment. What became of the boy who rightly despised the knights of Camelot and all they stood for? You have willingly joined with the men that slaughtered thousands of our people, forced us to always be on the run. How could you do it? _Kara's tone was not accusatory, but sad and confused._ Do you no longer care for your own people?_

_Of course I care, _he pleaded. _But Arthur doesn't hunt us. Look at what he's done, Kara. He knew I was a druid when he made me a knight. He doesn't seek to destroy us, as his father did. Can you not see how things have changed under his rule?_

_And what about your magic? _she pointed out. _He knows nothing of that. He still kills those who have it._

_No. Not as his father did._

_You're fooling yourself._

_I'm putting my faith in a man that one day will be the best king Albion has ever known, _he answered. There was a treacherous whisper in his mind, reminding him that he'd also put his faith in Merlin, and he'd been so very wrong. He ignored it.

…_I'm sorry, Mordred, but I don't have that faith in him. I'm tired of seeing those I love suffer and die._

_I don't blame you. I only wish you knew him as I do._

Silence fell between them. Mordred stared blankly up at his ceiling. Down in her cell, Kara curled onto her side on the stone slab.

_At least there was one good thing to come of all this, _said Kara.

_What good? _Mordred asked bitterly, picturing dead knights, Kara in her cell, Arthur with a noose, and Merlin, _Merlin_, stabbing him in the back. _I see none._

_I got to see you again._ Mordred squeezed his eyes against the rush of emotions, his heart constricting painfully. _I never thought I'd have that._

_I won't let you be hanged_, he promised. _You'll go free, I promise._

_I know you'll do all you can for me, Mordred._

_Mordred…_

The knight's eyes flashed open as a new voice spoke inside his head, a voice even more familiar than Kara's. His jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached.

_You should rest_, he advised the prisoner, keeping his tone steady. _Tomorrow will be a trying day._

_Sleep well._

_And you._

Mordred immediately missed the presence of her soft soothing voice, and almost called back to her. He was distracted by another quiet plea of his name.

_Do not speak to me, Merlin_, he snapped. _Leave me be._

_I told Arthur nothing, Mordred, believe me._

Mordred scoffed. How else could Arthur have known? _I no longer believe anything you tell me. I suppose I overestimated the worth of your promises._

_Oh, that's _rich_, _was the angry reply. _After the way you broke your promise to me-_

_It was for good reason-_

_I don't recall there being any conditions._

Mordred bit his tongue, glaring daggers up at the ceiling. _I don't expect you to understand, _he said haughtily. _I was only trying to help a friend._

_Why couldn't you have just _told_ me?_ Merlin begged. The sharpness was gone from his voice; Mordred could hear how torn up he was, how upset. The guilt weighted down his heart like a stone.

_Merlin…_

_Did you honestly think I would turn you in?_

Though this hadn't really been one of Mordred's concerns, he retorted, _If I did, I was clearly correct to fear it._

_I told you_, said Merlin, voice growing hard again, _I didn't break my promise. I can-_

_Tis late. I need to rest._

_Mordred-_

_Stay out of my head, or I swear you'll regret the consequences._

The warlock's voice disappeared, and Mordred released a shaky breath.

Gods, what was his life coming to? How had they fallen so quickly? For one shining moment everything was perfect… and then the world reversed and everything was just as wrong as it had been the _last_ time he and Merlin had broken apart. Mordred had believed they'd spend forever together. And even though Merlin had betrayed him—out of spite, or loyalty to the king, or something else, he still didn't know—Mordred's heart still wanted that. More than anything.

But that version of the future seemed to be slipping through his fingers fast, and if there was a way to grab on to it and hold on, Mordred didn't know what it was.


	36. Into the Fire

_Author's Note: So this one feels both wordy and awkward to me, but I don't know... Dealing with episodes is always a struggle. More importantly, thank you so much to my reviewers! I know I haven't responded to you all yet, and I'm sorry for that. But do not doubt that I appreciate your support as much as always. WARNING: more spoilers for S5E11. Also, I'd just like to assure you guys that while there will obviously be plenty of angst from this point on, I do promise that it won't be 100% angst. I WILL be including some happiness in there. Just in case any of you were getting really worried. Anyways, hope you enjoy!_

* * *

The next day was Kara's trial in court. She admitted freely to the part she played in the attack, but she showed no fear or remorse. She took the trial as an opportunity not to clear her own name, but to publicly accuse the king of all the crimes he'd never been held accountable for. She had little hope of changing the minds of any in the room except, perhaps, Mordred's, but she would do all she could to fight against oppressive tyranny. Kara would speak the truth, if the power to do all else had been taken from her.

Little did she know that she _was_ being heard, and not only by her friend, but by Merlin and the queen, a number of the knights, and even the king himself, though he debated with her. Merlin and Gwen listened with particular interest: Merlin because he recognized the truth of her words and willed Arthur to hear them (while battling his own guilt at supporting Uther's regime), and Gwen because she was wise and also heard the truth in Kara's words, saw the picture of injustice and cruelty that the druid painted and that Gwen knew to be accurate. She was given much to contemplate.

Coming to a stalemate of opinions, the issue finally arose of Kara's help from within Camelot. Merlin felt panicked for his lover—he had no reason to trust this Kara.

"I treated myself."

Relief. Loyalty was, evidently, another of her virtues. Merlin's estimation of her rose with each passing moment, though he was loathe to admit it. He didn't approve of her methods perhaps, but she had reasonable cause for them, and she was clearly a good and intelligent soul. He could see why Mordred would… No. He wouldn't think about that.

"You are lying. Whoever it was left a trail of footprints in the mud."

Mordred felt as though someone had looped a hook through his intestines and _yanked_. He couldn't resist looking shakily to Merlin as Arthur went on. Merlin was looking steadily back.

"Footprints that resulted in your capture."

Gods. Mordred had been so mistaken, so very out of line. Once again it was _he_ in the wrong, and Merlin that had _not_ broken a promise, and had indeed stood by his side. How could he ever make amends for such behavior as he'd exhibited? That of a child throwing a tantrum, refusing to listen, believing only what he wished to.

Was that the truth of it? Had he wanted so badly to believe that Merlin was as guilty as he was that he couldn't bear to see the facts of the matter? Was he so petty, so immature?

And even worse than this realization, Mordred now knew also that it was _he_ responsible for Kara's capture, and he alone. Everything, all of it, he was to blame, it was _his_ fault, he'd failed her more completely than he'd thought. He should be the one in chains.

Kara, wonderful Kara, lied for him, insisting that it was a stranger. "I have no _idea_ who he was."

Then Arthur passed down the sentence. The young knight turned to his king with pain-filled eyes as the words were uttered. Mordred watched despairingly as the damned woman was dragged from the courtroom while intoning one last threat.

* * *

Speaking with Kara after brought tears to his eyes, no matter how he tried to hold them back. Even after learning that Mordred was to blame for her capture, she still smiled at him, promised to keep his secret.

"That person is… very dear to me."

Mordred didn't deserve such kind-hearted devotion.

It killed him to see her behind bars, but Kara was stronger than he was: she was accepting of her fate and no tears misted her clear blue eyes, as they did his. When they were children, he'd always admired her steadfast strength, and always strived towards it himself. Right now he again felt weak in comparison, and he felt helpless, a feeling he hated above all others. But there was _one_ thing he could do.

As he'd promised, Mordred went to the king, his fear paramount, but his loyalty and affection leaving him no other alternative. Kneeling respectfully, he confessed, "It was me. I was the one who took the herbs to the druid girl."

The manservant was at first stunned by Mordred's foolish, self-incriminating admittance. Then he was flooded with admiration for Mordred that transcended mere words. Admiration for having the bravery to face Arthur, to admit his connection with Kara—the consequences to himself be damned—and bluntly ask him to reconsider. He spoke to Arthur in an honest, straightforward manner that Merlin had never accomplished. In only a few spoken sentences, Mordred proved himself a better man than Merlin had ever been.

"She's not to blame. Morgana is using her in her quest for power."

"You know this girl."

"She is… someone… since I was a child… she's always lived inside my heart."

Merlin's stomach churned viciously at this declaration of love. Was Mordred's love for Kara equal to his love for Merlin? Could it possibly be _more_?

How could Merlin have lost him so quickly? He'd thought they were made for each other. Mordred's love had made him feel happy and proud; seeing the passion the younger man held for him finally made him feel like he was _worth _something, something incredible, because Mordred thought he was.

But in the end he wasn't special at all. A flame from Mordred's past had found room to worm into Mordred's heart in only two days. Heart flooded with sorrow, Merlin felt emotionally reduced to the boy he'd been before ever stepping foot in Camelot.

"But what you ask… This girl, she is a danger. Not just to me. She's a sworn enemy of Camelot, ruthless to the cause."

Desperately Mordred shook his head. "No. I will change that, she'll _listen_ to me."

"I cannot risk the lives of my citizens, Mordred, no matter who asks."

The young man was trembling. "I beg you, Arthur."

The druid may as well have been pleading with a sympathetic brick wall. Arthur spoke of the bond between knights and yet refused to help him, to hear him. He couldn't see Kara's goodness or innocence.

The youthful optimism that Mordred kept stored inside himself seeped away, leaving an empty hole in its wake. Kara had been right. Arthur would never accept her. Mordred had been wrong to think he would, to think he would change his mind if spoken to directly by a friend. At last he understood why Merlin had never spoken frankly with Arthur about his magic. It did no good. The king was stuck in his ways.

Merlin watched silently, hating every moment of seeing his lover in such agony, a tear rolling down one cheek. He longed to reach out and brush it away, to hold Mordred in his arms and keep him safe. To kiss him and love him. But he could only stand and observe, stuck, frozen.

He still felt the jealousy and insecurity burning inside of him. But even this was overpowered by the overwhelming fear and heartbreak when Arthur responded predictably, turning down Mordred's request, though not without compassion.

Defeated, Mordred left. Merlin wanted to call out to him, to console him, but he knew his words would be meaningless. Insulting, even. Once Mordred was gone, Merlin tried to reason with Arthur, to call his attention to the perils of the situation, but Arthur wouldn't listen. Merlin wished he were blessed with Mordred's bravery, that he might simply tell Arthur about the prophecies and be done with it.

But he couldn't. Gods help him, he couldn't.

* * *

Her words were soft and persuasive. They fanned the ashes of confusion and hurt left in his bruised heart until they grew into a fire of betrayal. Her words slid through his mind, twisting and turning, gently nudging his thoughts, his beliefs, until they began to match her own. It all became clear to him now, how right she was. Arthur Pendragon was a good man, he wouldn't relinquish on that point, but for all his pretty words—and Merlin's—he still practiced under the exact same laws as Uther.

What had Mordred been _doing_? When he'd come to Camelot he'd accused Merlin of standing by and doing nothing, of spending ten years at Arthur's side without telling him the truth or making him change his mind on the ways of sorcery.

And then Mordred had followed right in the warlock's footsteps. It would almost be laughable, were it not sickening.

Still, he did care deeply for Arthur, and wished him no ill. But watching Kara die at the hands of an ignorant friend was something he wouldn't do.

* * *

From the moment Mordred stepped into the royal chambers late that night, Merlin knew something was terribly wrong. He couldn't help himself as he took several long steps behind Mordred, asking, _Mordred, what is this?_

The younger man gave no answer, approaching Arthur directly.

"I wanted to…" Mordred swallowed. "…to apologize."

Arthur's gaze was soft. "There's no need."

"I'm sorry for what I did. I hope you'll forgive me."

Merlin's breath halted. There was a layered meaning in that. The tone was clear. This wasn't an apology for deeds past. It was an apology for deeds yet to be committed. Surely he hadn't… Surely Mordred hadn't decided to re-embark on the path fate had laid out for him? Merlin's pulse thundered in his ears.

"I'd never let something like this ruin our friendship."

The manservant gritted his teeth at the unending idiocy of his best friend. Could he not see what was happening?

Mordred gave a weak smile. "You took me in. I will always remember that. And everything you've done for me," he added.

Arthur waved a hand. "You've rewarded me. By… becoming my most loyal of knights."

A crack splintered the casing of Mordred's heart. "Thank you, sire." He gave a slight nod then walked away from the desk.

As Mordred came towards him, Merlin tried again to speak. _Mordred, please._ The druid only looked at him, silent, and walked past. Merlin watched him go, fighting to keep his face as blank as ever. Barely listening to his friend, Merlin frantically raced out the door after the other man.

He jogged down the hallway, turning a corner where he caught up to Mordred. "What are you doing?" At the sound of Merlin's voice, Mordred came to a slow halt. "You're leaving, and you're going to take her with you."

There was no doubt in his mind that he was correct, and each word destroyed him inside, even as he forced them out. He knew it wasn't fair to feel that Mordred was choosing Kara over him, that Mordred _loved_ her more than him, but he felt it still, and it wrecked him. He made himself confront Mordred anyways, because this wasn't about Merlin's feelings, it was about Arthur's life. Mordred needed him now—not as a lover, but as friend and guide.

The knight turned. He'd desperately wanted to avoid Merlin, but Merlin was letting him have none of that. It would have been so much simpler, so much less _painful_, not to see Merlin, not to speak with him again before running away. He loved Merlin more than anything in the world, and wanted nothing so much as to stay with him always. His heart had already shattered into a million pieces at the knowledge that once he took Kara he would never be able to return. He'd be separated from Merlin _forever_, never able to come back to Camelot, never able to witness Merlin's shining smile again, or touch his cheek, or laugh with him, or see him in any way. A tortuous separation that would last for eternity and would likely drive him into the depths of depression.

But his duty to his friend, to doing what was _right_, to saving the life of a good person, was more important than any personal longing. How could he live a happy life with Merlin knowing that he'd sacrificed a dear friend in order to have it? He was barely keeping it together now, and that he was only doing for Kara's sake.

The urge to apologize for his recent actions boiled inside of him, but what was the point? What was the point when he would be gone tomorrow? It was better to leave things on a bad note than to fix everything just in time for them to split apart forever. It took considerable effort to keep tears from tumbling forth when he locked eyes with his lover.

"Do not stand in my way," he warned. His chin quivered. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Merlin shook his head sadly. "Mordred…"

"Kara is sentenced to _die_ in the _morning_. What would you do?"

"You can't," was Merlin's reply.

"Tell me you wouldn't do the same… for the woman you love."

Merlin's heart plummeted like a stone in a lake, both at the reminder of Freya and the intentional use of "love" rather than "loved" (Mordred always picked his words with deadly precision). Here was the proof, the confession—as gentle and understated as sweet Mordred could make it—that he did indeed love Kara now. More than Merlin. In _place_ of Merlin. So distraught was he that he could barely think, and he softly uttered the first words to come to mind. "Don't be foolish."

Mordred's expression was tender as he smiled sadly at Merlin, covering his guilt at using falsehoods in order to push Merlin's heart away from him. "You see?" He knew what Merlin had once done for Freya. He knew Merlin had no authority to reprimand him. "You cannot." With great power of will, he turned away.

Merlin couldn't accept it. He couldn't let Mordred leave. He was frightened, terrified! It seemed that Kara had, in the span of only a couple days, managed to regain control of Mordred's affections. If Mordred left Camelot with her now, there could be little doubt that she would soon sway him back onto the course of his fate, if she hadn't already. Without Merlin's love and Arthur's companionship to guide him, Kara—ally of Morgana—would use their love to twist Mordred back into what he once was.

Merlin couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Mordred go with her. There was only one way that story ended: with Arthur's death.

"Mordred."

The knight halted, unable to keep walking when that wonderful voice bid him stop.

"Please," he said in a last-ditch effort. As all else had failed, Merlin could only hope now that his intimate plea would appeal to some part of Mordred that loved him yet. Surely there was still a piece of his heart reserved for Merlin. Merlin had to believe that.

Mordred's eyes fluttered shut at the painful, painful word. Why was Merlin doing this to him? Couldn't he see how much it was already _killing_ Mordred inside? He didn't _want_ to do this, he didn't _want_ to leave. But how could he let Kara die?

"I know you did not betray me before," he said coldly, as close to an apology as he was willing to make when their lifelong estrangement would begin the next day. "Do not do so now."

Merlin watched him go with a broken, frail heart.

* * *

Gwen was sharing a pleasant dinner with Arthur when Merlin burst into the room. "Merlin?" she exclaimed automatically, concerned to see her friend in such a state.

"I'm sorry. My lady, I- I need to speak with Arthur. It's important."

Arthur rolled his eyes, putting his wine goblet down. "It better be."

Gwen watched the exchange worriedly, knowing that Merlin wouldn't have interrupted without a dreadfully good reason. Even as Merlin nodded, he looked ill, not quite himself.

"It's Mordred."

"What is it?"

Exceedingly confused and worry increasing, Gwen shifted, looking more closely at her friend. Mordred? He was reporting something about Mordred? But why would he-

"Arthur…" Merlin swallowed, straightening his back with discomfort.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"He, uh…" Merlin couldn't keep his eyes on the king. He fidgeted uncharacteristically and looked down at his feet.

"Well?" Arthur nudged.

There was a bad feeling in the pit of the queen's stomach. She wished she could tell Merlin to stop, to keep himself from speaking whatever was on his mind, something that a sense of foreboding warned her he would later regret. As a friend, Gwen had no wish to see Merlin suffer, as he clearly was now. She wasn't surprised, as it seemed he was reporting some trouble to do with Mordred, and, as she very correctly surmised, that must have been the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

But she kept quiet. Though her heart protested, Guinevere's first duty was to the people as their queen, and if an injustice occurred or a law was broken, she had no choice but to let Arthur hear it out, no matter the source.

"He's going to help the druid girl escape," said Merlin finally. Gwen was struck dumb. Her husband, more used to dealing quickly with calamity, soon jumped to his feet and rushed to the door, followed by Merlin. Gwen stayed where she was, pondering this astounding occurrence, the concern for her friend overwhelming her. She honestly cared less about the jailbreak than she did about how Merlin was handling the news.

He must feel truly terrible if Mordred had chosen to leave Camelot with Kara, leaving Merlin behind. And there was no doubt that he was hesitant to report Mordred, and felt powerful guilt for it. Gwen wondered if Mordred had revealed the plan in confidence, trusting his lover not to tell Arthur. If so, Mordred had made a grave miscalculation, and Merlin could only be wallowing in layers of self-loathing.

Sighing, Guinevere pushed her food away, appetite gone, and wandered over to the window. She waited for Arthur to return, waited to hear further news. She had no idea what she wanted that news to be.

* * *

Mordred took several steps forward towards the dead body, jaw dropped and brow creased with sad bewilderment. Kara looked to him, dagger still in hand. He shook his head, asking for answers.

"He's a Camelot soldier," she justified. He would have raised the alarm, gotten them both thrown back in a cell before they'd even left the city. He was therefore a necessary casualty. Didn't Mordred see that?

The young man was frightened. Perhaps Kara had changed after all. When they were children, even if she would have condoned the action, she could never have been so blank, so cold-hearted over it. _He was a _person, _Kara,_ he was about to reply.

Warning bells rang out, not allowing him the chance. The two fugitives had no choice but to turn and run, away into the forest and their only chance of escape from the guards and knights now after them.

Jogging just behind Kara, Mordred couldn't help but think on what it meant, that the bells were ringing. The next shift of prison guards wouldn't have arrived yet. There was no earthly reason her absence should have been noted, unless…

Merlin. This time there really was no other explanation than Merlin's betrayal. Mordred couldn't understand. What would possess Merlin to do such a horrible, hateful thing? He knew the older man remembered Freya, he knew that he hated the injustices and the murders as much as Mordred did, knew that he sympathized with the druids. And he didn't believe that Merlin could be so spiteful as to turn them in simply because Mordred implied stronger feelings towards Kara than he truly harbored anymore. Merlin wasn't that sort of man.

Then what could it possibly be? Mordred couldn't fathom what was going through Merlin's mind. In a way, it didn't matter. This time he wasn't mistaken, he wasn't in the wrong. He was in the _right_, doing a good deed, and Merlin was trying to punish him for it. The older man had effectively signed the death warrants for both Kara and Mordred.

He tried to tell himself it wasn't important, that the only important thing was to focus on evading the guards, but of course he didn't believe it. To be so in love with another person that they were like a part of you that makes the whole, and then to be struck such a devastating blow, was enough to bring a weaker man to his knees. Mordred powered through, kept on running, but he felt like nothing more than a sack of flesh and bones threaded together at the seams by agony and despair, and an instinctive protectiveness towards the girl he'd once loved that was more important than his own life.

Finally there came a point when Kara could run no further, though she'd made it an admirable distance. She was out of breath, panting, her leg in severe pain.

They were crouched together behind a rock when Mordred heard Arthur calling out his name. The knights made a loud trail through the night, cracking branches and rustling leaves as they made their way towards the fugitives. Taking a deep breath, Mordred drew his sword. Kara stared at him in shock as he rose, holding the weapon in front of him as he faced down four of his closest friends. No words were spoken. No one knew where to begin.

_Use your magic_, encouraged Kara. _Kill them!_

His eyes moved towards her, disbelieving that she could even be suggesting such a thing. "They are my friends," he told her.

"Give yourselves up," commanded Arthur. Mordred turned back to the king, expression hardening resolutely.

"Let her go," he demanded. His tone was firm, but his eyes were entreating. "We will leave Camelot and never return. You have my word!" He kept his gaze locked on Arthur, refusing to look towards the man just to Arthur's right, the man who had destroyed him. Arthur wasn't budging. "Please."

When Arthur remained unresponsive, Mordred swallowed, palms sweating anxiously on the hilt. His watering eyes flicked first to one good friend, "Gwaine?", then to the other, "Leon?". Both men looked melancholy—though nowhere near as miserable as himself, Merlin, and Arthur—but neither spoke a word to him or in his defense, instead ignoring his cry for help. How he wished Percival were here. Percival would stand beside him, Mordred knew it.

_Use your magic! _Kara exclaimed impatiently. _Do it!_

Clenching his jaw, Mordred felt his heart harden towards those he'd called friends. What was the use in having friends if they could all so easily betray you? He was asking for very little, and promising much in return. All four of the men staring at him were guilty. Guilty of crimes against his people, and now of repaying his deep loyalty with _nothing_. Their friendship was worthless. They had betrayed him.

He would be merciful. He wouldn't kill them, as Kara wanted, he would simply knock them out cold.

That didn't stop his heart from squeezing as he lowered his sword. His eyes bore straight into Merlin's now, giving fair warning in one shared look. Merlin would understand what it meant. Mordred would do anything, he was even willing to challenge the most powerful sorcerer in the world, if that's what it took to save her. He had love and conviction on his side: that would give him the advantage. It was Merlin's own fault that it had come to this, that he would be forced to publicly reveal his own magic if he wished to stop Mordred.

That was the choice he was offering to his former lover. Either fight and reveal his secret, or stand down and let Mordred and Kara escape, as he _should_ have done in the _first_ place.

The druid knight's head lowered, eyes closing in preparation as he pulled himself together, feeling the thrum of power within him. When he opened his eyes, all warmth was gone, and he stared purposefully at the warlock, challenging him.

_What shall it be, Merlin? _he asked.

He would never know Merlin's answer, because suddenly everything went dark.


	37. Lost

_Author's Note: Here we're (almost) wrapping up episode 11. Thank you to all my readers who have stuck with me this far! And thank you for each and every one of your reviews. I treasure them._

_WARNING: Um... Not sure if this warrants a warning, but Mordred's thoughts go in a rather dark direction towards the end of this chapter, so... Be prepared? I guess? Anyways... have fun._

* * *

They fell asleep in adjoining cells, holding hands for comfort. If he were not so exhausted from all that had come to pass, Mordred doubted he would've slept at all. Knowledge of the part he'd played in Kara's current situation ate away at him. It was all he could do to stay strong in front of her, rather than give into the urge to vomit.

But if she could accept her fate so calmly, he wouldn't do anything less. Kara needed strength and support; he understood that. If he shed tears or threw up, it would break through the protective barrier she had erected in order to block out her fear over the impending execution.

Still, he could only have been asleep for a few hours when a knight entering Kara's cell roused them. Mordred stood with her, staring into the eyes of his friend.

"We've come to take her to the king," Leon said directly to him.

Brow crinkling in puzzlement, Mordred turned to Kara. She tenderly kissed the gloved hand held in hers. With one last look, Kara released him and walked out of her cell. Leon held back for a moment, solemnly meeting Mordred's gaze, before following the prisoner out.

Mordred wrapped his hands around the bars, watching them clap iron around Kara's wrists and lead her out. The uncertainly and confusion were killing him. Why would Arthur wish to see her? That didn't follow protocol.

Swallowing fearfully, Mordred's eyelids fluttered shut. His limbs began to tremble and bile rose up in his throat at the thought of what he was about to do. But his need to understand compelled him to do it. There was no alternative.

_Merlin_, he called out. _Merlin, what's happening?_

_Mordred._ The voice was weighed down, and full of surprise at having been hailed. _I… What do you want to know?_

_They've taken Kara to see the king. Why? You must tell me._

_Arthur has… decided to reconsider his sentence._

His legs now trembling too much to support his weight, Mordred slid to the floor, landing in the very spot in which he'd slept. His hand covered his mouth and he forced air in through his nose. He could think of no reply.

After a few seconds, Merlin said, _I can relay to you what's said. If you like._

Mordred felt a rush of bitterness. _Why should you want to help me?_

_I didn't mean for things to turn out like this._

_Save your excuses for one who'll believe them._

_I was afraid she'd lead you straight to Morgana,_ said the older man. _But _this_ isn't what I wanted._

_What did you _think_ would happen when we were captured? _Mordred snapped. _Arthur would grant us both a royal pardon?_

_He may do just that, _was the soft reply. Merlin sounded so genuine and sure that Mordred couldn't help but believe him. For quite some time Mordred had put complete faith in any words spoken in that voice. He couldn't help the sudden hope that was blooming inside his chest.

_You spoke with him_, he guessed.

_Yes._

A hesitant smile pulled at the druid's lips. _I always believed he would listen to you._

_It was a close thing, but Arthur's a sensible man. _Merlin paused._ When he wants to be._

The chuckle that Mordred gave was so soft as to barely qualify as an expression of amusement. Then his smile faded completely, sadness and pain returning. _Don't believe that this means I've forgiven you, _he warned tightly. _You betrayed me._

_You're right_, answered Merlin bluntly. _And now I'm doing my best to fix it. I hope that… if I succeed… _then_ you'll be able to forgive me._

_Merlin-_

_I know it's a lot to ask_, cut in Merlin desperately, _but that's all I want. I didn't… To come between two people in love is a terrible crime. I hope you'll forgive me for that as well. I want you to be happy, Mordred. I should've just let you run away with her, I should've- I was just so scared- I thought- I'm sorry._

The thoughts were becoming fragmented, as Merlin seemed in a hurry to push them all out. Mordred's tongue was frozen, his emotions running haywire. He didn't even know _what_ he was feeling, he only knew that his chest was tight and his nails bit into sweaty palms. Even if he'd wanted to, Mordred couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise, because Merlin rushed on.

_And I want you to know that even now, even… if you belong to someone else, and even if you hate me for what I've done… I'll _always_ love you. _The knight's shaking finger swiped across his cheek. Was that a tear? _Always. I- _Gods_, I love you so much. And when you're gone from Camelot with Kara, I'll always be thinking about you. And I… guess I selfishly hope that from time to time you'll think of me. You're the love of my life, Mordred. And I meant to _spend _that life with you, but… Well, it doesn't matter now._

Merlin's pained voice faded away. Tears streaming, Mordred's chest bounced with each ragged breath. He pulled his knees up and squeezed his eyes shut tight as he rested his forehead against them, not bothering to wipe away the moist tracks down his cheeks.

_Merlin…_ he got out. _I must tell you. I-_

_She's here, _interrupted Merlin suddenly, voice steadier than before. _The guards just brought her in._

Mordred's stomach jumped unpleasantly, but he drew himself together with one long, calming breath. If this meeting proceeded as Merlin seemed confident it would, there would be time for confessions later. Now he could do nothing but focus on Kara. Despite the warm hope inside of him, he still felt the anxiety clawing under his skin.

_I'll tell you word-for-word what they say, all right?_

_Thank you, Merlin, _he whispered tiredly. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the uncomfortable metal corner as the second "trial" began.

* * *

Merlin listened to Arthur's words with bated breath, passing them on directly to Mordred, who was silent on the receiving end. The barest hint of an optimistic smile rested on his lips; he even nodded approvingly a few times.

Arthur had heard him and taken his words into consideration. He was offering Kara a chance. Merlin had succeeded. Kara would accept, she and Mordred would go free, peace would be maintained, Mordred would forgive both Arthur and Merlin, and… Kara and Mordred would be happy together.

He forced himself to think on that last point with joy, and ignored the way his gut protested.

Merlin was so thrilled at what was occurring—that for _once _he'd managed to clean up after his terrible mistakes—that he turned his eyes eagerly to Kara, awaiting her reply so that he could pass it on to Mordred and share in the feelings of relief and delight with his former lover.

But the manservant had overestimated Kara—or perhaps underestimated her. For while Arthur had indeed heard _Merlin's_ words, it was clear to the druid girl that he'd heard none of _hers_. The king continued to patronize her, insinuating that her beliefs could only come from her "impressionable" youth, that she had been twisted by Morgana. As if she didn't have _reason_ to be angry, to wish him dead, to fight against his corrupt rule. He still refused to see that she had her own mind, and that she fought for what she did because it was _right_. Because Arthur and his father had brutally and mercilessly murdered and hunted her kind for decades. Because for all he talked of a kingdom of justice and equality, he kept laws enforced that discriminated against her people, and saw innocents executed.

Arthur Pendragon still didn't see that he was in the wrong in any way, and Kara wouldn't prostrate herself before him just to save her life. Her purpose was to bring about total freedom to the kingdom. The blind, hypocritical king was no closer to bringing that future about than when she'd tried to kill him. She couldn't ask for forgiveness when he refused to admit his own wrongdoing, his own part in deciding her chosen path. She could only hope that her martyrdom would awaken some of the population to the wrongs still occurring.

If only _he_ had apologized, and offered to reconsider his position on sorcery and perhaps meet peacefully with her people to discuss the injustices still plaguing the kingdom, _then_ she could have accepted his offer. But Arthur would never see, never change. So as it was…

"I cannot repent a crime I have not committed."

Every happy thought was crushed under the weight of a heart much too heavy for Merlin's chest. He struggled to breathe. He couldn't bring himself to echo the words.

Obviously confused by the silence, Mordred called, _Merlin?_ in his mind, but Merlin didn't respond. He was too busy listening, and meeting Arthur's stare, his lips involuntarily forming the word _Please._ He wasn't even sure if Arthur could read such a small movement, but he knew the plea was obvious. He _needed_ Arthur to pardon her. Everything depended on it. If only Arthur could see that. How could Merlin make him_ see_?

_Merlin, what's happened?_ came a worried voice.

"You deserve everything that's coming to you, Arthur Pendragon."

Those were her last words. There was a tense and saddened silence in the courtroom. It took Merlin two minutes, and three concerned questions later, to finally reply to the man he loved.

_She turned him down_, he said shortly, watching Kara be taken from the room, and the other occupants file out after her. _She's going to be hanged._

No matter how frantically he tried to coax a response from the younger man, the other end of the line stayed dead silent.

* * *

He stood behind a pillar, leaning against it for support. The last thing in the world that he wanted to do was watch this execution, but he had no choice. Kara walked steadily to the platform, the rope was placed around her neck, and-

Merlin's entire body flinched. He'd felt the intense outburst of magical energy nearby. And he recognized the feeling of Mordred's power. Their deeply rooted telepathic connection also carried to him some of the emotions accompanying the release of magic—and it frightened the warlock. Never before had he known Mordred to experience such complete rage and grief.

Merlin wiped tears away from the corners of his eyes. It was his fault that Kara was dead. And his fault that sweet young Mordred was in such a state. All his fault.

* * *

Mordred knew he hadn't any time to waste, but it would be several minutes yet before the court returned inside from the ceremonial murder. His fury gave his mind a cold clarity, and he hurried with purpose to his rooms. There were things there that he wanted to take with him, that he couldn't allow to fall into their hands.

The knight packed swiftly, stuffing the very few belongings he needed to take into a small sack. His book of runes, the Crystal of Neahtid, and…

Mordred couldn't say why he did it, he simply did. With a flick of golden eyes, Merlin's neckerchief flew from the wardrobe into the knapsack.

He'd had it for a while now. He'd discovered it tucked away under his bed the day after he, Merlin, and their friends had gone to the tavern together. It didn't take him long to realize that it had been discarded there when Leon had come knocking, unknowingly interrupting the two sorcerers. Since then, Mordred had kept it. Oh, he'd thought of giving it back, but Merlin had so many of them, losing one wouldn't hurt. And he wanted to keep it. It gave him comfort, happiness.

Swinging the bag over his shoulder, Mordred took one last look at the room that had been his home for so many months. Then he was gone.

By the time his disappearance was noted and a search was begun, Mordred was far away and out of reach, his mind set on a note of revenge.

* * *

Merlin considered immediately telling Arthur of Mordred's escape. But then, how could he explain such knowledge? With that easy justification in mind, Merlin said nothing. He did, however, rush into the castle well before everyone else.

Mordred would be long gone from the cell, so there was no point in going there. If Mordred had any sense he'd head straight for the forest and run, never turning back. The knights of Camelot would have no choice but to look for him, but they'd find nothing, of this Merlin was certain.

There was one other thing that Merlin was certain of. Now that it was clear that Mordred had sorcery and had gone fugitive, his rooms would be searched.

Which meant that the multitude of vastly incriminating pictures he'd sketched of Merlin would be discovered.

Pulse racing, Merlin ran as fast as he could, feet pounding against the floors as he flew through the corridors. When he reached Mordred's chambers he burst inside, carefully closing the door behind him. He went immediately to the wardrobe, using his sorcery to open the lock.

Impatient hands yanked out the bottom drawer. He stopped for one breathless moment as he stared down at those many many parchments, a pain in his gut much akin to being run through by a sword. Steeling his nerve, Merlin grabbed as many as he could hold and carried them to the fireplace. His eyes flashed, and a fire began to roar. He threw the papers in.

Merlin went back and forth two more times before the last of the pictures were deposited into the flames. Almost unconsciously he used his magic to shut the drawer and close the wardrobe again. His eyes were fixed on the burning likenesses of himself, his expression blank.

One by one the pieces of parchment shriveled, turning black at the edges until the fire licked its way to their centers. One by one Merlin's smiles, and winks, and blushing faces disappeared, gone forever, turned to ash. The last to go was one that Merlin had seen before. He watched, a dull haze over his eyes, as an image of his freezing self crouched in the snow—when he'd been reunited with this grownup Mordred—burned to a crisp.

The warning bells tolled. Snapping back to attention, Merlin functioned on autopilot. He extinguished the flames and quickly left Mordred's chambers, setting a fast pace for Arthur's.

* * *

No one in the castle rested well that night. Over the entire city seemed to hang a dark cloud of sadness and fear, and in the cases of some, guilt. Neither Arthur nor Merlin got any real sleep, both unable to stop wondering what they could have done differently, both blaming themselves for the tragic turn of events.

When Merlin came down in the morning, there were dark bags beneath his eyes and he ate mechanically, barely aware of the world around him. He paid no attention to Gaius; he simply had his breakfast and started to leave to report for his duties.

"It isn't your fault, Merlin."

Merlin stopped just before opening the door. He turned round to face his adoptive father. Gaius was staring at him with obvious pity. Merlin tried to smile, but failed all too completely.

"Yes, it is," he disagreed bluntly. Gaius opened his mouth. "No, don't… argue. I appreciate what you're trying to do, Gaius, really. But I don't deserve it. You know it's my fault as much as I do. Nothing can change that fact. It's just something I'll have to live with."

Sadly, Gaius nodded his head. "You've always done what you believed to be best, Merlin. No one could ask any more of you than that. Your heart has always been in the right place."

"Has it been?" countered Merlin bitterly. "I don't know. I think maybe I tell myself that. Try to justify the mistakes I've made, act like I was just trying to do the _right_ thing."

"You may not see it yourself, but I know you better than anyone. And I know, sure as I _breathe_, that you have a good heart. The very best. If you cannot see it yourself, then see it through me."

Merlin said nothing in response, but that was all right, because Gaius used the opportunity to approach him and fold him into an embrace. Merlin's arms squeezed tight around the older man. As Gaius began to rub his back reassuringly, it all became too much, and Merlin began to cry. Gaius said nothing, only continued to hold him as Merlin shook and struggled to breathe through his tears.

* * *

It was still early in the afternoon, the sun bright in the sky, but Percival was already at the tavern. He clutched the mug tightly in his hands, staring numbly down into the depths of the drink.

"Hey. Percival." Slowly he turned his head towards his friend. His dead eyes met with a compassionate gaze. Gwaine placed a hand on Percival's shoulder, squeezing a little too hard, in an attempt to wake his friend from his unhealthy state. "You can't blame yourself like this. We all liked Mordred, trusted him. No one could have seen this coming, not even you. He fooled all of us."

"Gwaine…" Percival swallowed, his jaw clenched as his eyes turned back to the mug. "It's not often that I say this, but… this time, you just don't understand." Gwaine reeled backward as though he'd been slapped. "Please… go away."

Hurt, and confused, Gwaine could think of nothing else to do but comply. Percival slumped down farther in his seat, dropping his head onto the cool wooden bar.

* * *

"Merlin?"

The manservant halted in the middle of the hallway. He turned to his queen with the same blank expression he'd been wearing all day. She regarded him with obvious care, but no pity, for which Merlin was grateful.

"I won't ask how you are, as I know you'll simply lie." Merlin was struck dumb, but Gwen was undeterred. "But I wish you to know… I'm always here. I cannot even imagine how you must feel, but the one thing you _don't_ have to be is alone. You have friends. I'm always happy to help you in any way that I can, you need only ask. So please. Ask."

After a second, Merlin inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath. "You… You know, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question. "About me and him."

"Yes, I've known for some time."

"But you never…" Merlin's words failed him again. "You never mentioned it, or… asked anything about it. You didn't even tell Arthur." His tone was blatantly amazed. She smiled.

"It wasn't really my business to know, nor Arthur's. I happened on the knowledge accidentally. I didn't wish to make things uncomfortable for you. So I kept it to myself."

"You're a good friend, Gwen," he whispered. "Really. I… can't thank you enough. For everything. Especially for not telling anyone. I have a feeling that if it'd been more publicly known I would have lost many friends right now. And that _you're_ still willing to be my friend, even given-"

"Merlin, of _course_," she interrupted. She reached out and took Merlin's hands in hers. "I've known you for _years_. I have nothing but sympathy for you in these circumstances. You aren't to be blamed for caring for another person, or to be held responsible for any acts they commit."

"There are many who would see me as a traitor."

"All I see is a man left more heartbroken than any of us. You'll always have my friendship, no matter what. It is the man _you are_ that counts, and I believe I know that man well."

"Thank you." Merlin received his second hug of the day, and didn't cry this time. He even managed a miniscule smile.

"Merlin…" the queen said hesitantly after pulling away. "There is _one_ thing I would ask. Did you know that Mordred was a sorcerer?"

It would be so easy to lie, to assure that he hadn't and he'd been as surprised as anyone. He could clear his name, and not have to worry about a thing.

But Merlin was damned tired. His nerves were frayed, his emotions were a wreck, and suddenly he'd had enough. He didn't care anymore.

"I did," he admitted sharply.

"You know that keeping that information from the king is treason."

"Please, Gwen…" Merlin drifted off, but both heard the unspoken words: _Don't tell Arthur_. Guinevere watched him carefully as he shook his head slightly, forcing his thoughts back into line. "He never even used his magic. And if he had, it would've only been for good reasons. Having magic, even using it, doesn't make a person evil. It's what they do with it that counts."

"You sound very sure of that," she commented.

Merlin shifted uneasily. "Yeah, well my father was…" Nope. That excuse hurt too much to think about right now. "And Gaius," he pointed out. "He used to be a sorcerer, and you know as well as I do that he'd never hurt anyone."

The queen regarded him, blatant curiosity in her expression. At least she was considering his words rather than reporting him. So far. Merlin wasn't sure he trusted _any_one anymore. "I've never heard you speak this way before."

"Look, it's… I respect Arthur. You _know_ how much I care about him; I'd do anything for him," said the warlock firmly. "But that doesn't mean I always _agree_ with him. I understand why he sees sorcery the way he does, but I don't share his views. I couldn't turn Mordred in, not when he hadn't done anything wrong. How could I?"

"In all my years, I can think of only one time when I saw magic used for good," replied Gwen thoughtfully. "But then, that may be because the Great Purge and the ban of magic have kept those who _would_ use it for good from doing so, and have left only those who would ignore the laws and use it otherwise. How can I know?"

Merlin nodded forcefully, relieved. "Exactly. I knew you'd understand."

"But these things don't occur to Arthur."

"I know."

Nodding slowly, processing this new information, Gwen absentmindedly began to walk away.

"Gwen!" She looked back. Merlin swallowed nervously. "You won't… tell him, about what I've said, will you?"

She smiled gently. "No. I've no desire to report you for treason, Merlin. Nor do I think Arthur is ready yet to hear what we would say to him about this. Someday, soon, but not yet."

"I agree." A small, but genuine, smile of relief flitted momentarily across his face. "Thank you for… understanding."

The two friends separated and went on their ways.

* * *

What could be covered in a day by horseback took Mordred several long days to travel by foot. He barely remembered those days, as his mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of revenge, his soul swirling black with hate and rage, his heart full of the need to annihilate those who had wronged him. One in particular—he who had dared to betray Mordred, then to feed him morsels of false hope, allowing Mordred to then fall even deeper into the excruciating pit of oblivion.

All his latent childhood tendencies towards anger and violence rose up at once, destroying his many years of training himself to be good, to forgive, to live a peaceful life, as the druids taught. That part of him was left buried far beneath the intense strength of his reawakened darker side.

When he walked into Ealdor late in the evening, he knew he looked hellish. This bothered him none. It hardly mattered. He wouldn't be staying long. All he had to do was one simple spell, one flash of golden eyes to snap her neck, and then he'd be on his way.

This was what Merlin deserved. This was the revenge that Mordred's heart desired, to make the warlock suffer a loss so painful that his heart could no longer go on, as Mordred's could not. And Merlin would know that _he_ was to blame for inciting Mordred to this act, just as Mordred knew that he himself was to blame for not saving Kara. Then they would be even. Only, Merlin was weaker in his core than Mordred was. Where Mordred's loss had made him stronger and given him new purpose, Merlin's loss would ruin him.

His druid feet padded almost silently over the dirt as he calmly made his way towards her hut. Distant murmurs drifted to his ears. No doubt the villagers had noticed his appearance and were frightened. No one approached him. Mordred stopped and stood outside her door for three short seconds, then pushed his way through.

Hunith looked up from her seat at the table, where she sat mending a shirt with needle and thread. When she spotted Mordred, and the state he was in—clothes ragged, face dirty, hair grimy, eyes hollow—Hunith gasped and jumped to her feet.

Mordred's jaw fell open. He knew the words. It would be so quick, just two little words. But his throat was closing up, his neck muscles tensing in rebellion as she came swiftly to his side. His eyes couldn't leave her figure, and the words couldn't leave his mouth. He was stuck.

"Oh, my child, what's happened to you?" asked Hunith concernedly. She took his hand, and Mordred dumbly allowed himself to be led to a seat. Hunith hurried to get a bowl of water and cloth. She took the seat beside him, reaching out to wipe the dirt from his face.

Mordred was surprised to see the cloth come back not only brown but red as well, evidently from a cut on his cheek. He hadn't even noticed. Oh well, that could be fixed easily enough. No other thoughts were registering in his mind. Hunith continued her work.

"What brings you here?" she inquired. "And alone, and in such a way. Has something gone wrong in Camelot?"

He still hadn't spoken when Hunith set aside the bowl, having washed his face clean. Her eyes were tender as she looked worriedly at him.

"Mordred?"

The quiet name finally snapped the druid's frozen state. Everything hit him all at once.

Gods above, what was he _doing_?! What had he been _thinking_? What sort of evil creature was he to ever think of such a thing as a way of revenge? Hunith, the kind and accepting mother that she was, had _nothing_ to do with the rift between he and Merlin! This wasn't justice; this wasn't a fair way to fight a war. This was a monstrous thing.

To have considered—No, not only considered but _planned_, for _days_, to _kill_ her, for nothing more than the crime of being Merlin's mother? To think of her as nothing but a pawn, instead of the living, breathing human being that she was? Mordred had never been more ashamed of himself, or more frightened. Even _he_ hadn't realized how dark his heart could truly be.

Mordred broke down into sobs right there at the table. His fingernails raked across his scalp, and he relished in the pain. A warm arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer, against her bosom. Hunith's hand carded through his hair, gently removing his own hands so they could do no more harm. She murmured comforting words to him, holding him until his cries had ceased.

"I-" Mordred croaked, raising his head. He blinked blearily at her. "I'm so… so sorry. I'm so sorry, Hunith."

"No," she crooned, brushing the curls off his forehead. "No. It's all right, Mordred."

_You don't understand_, Mordred thought desperately.

"Won't you tell me what this is about? How did you come to be here? And is Merlin not with you?"

He felt another tear roll down his cheek. "I… I'm on a special and secret mission for the king, I… had to travel alone."

"I see." Hunith gently wiped his tears away. "And something happened to you?"

"It's-" He choked, then forced himself to breathe. "The mission is of great importance, but it is dangerous and… it has taken a toll on me. I wondered… if I might stay here. Just for one night."

"Mordred." She smiled at him. "Of course. Stay as long as you need. You are _always_ welcome in my home. I am very happy to see you again. Here, come on. Up you get, and help me lay out a bed for you."

A smile wavered into being. He obediently stood, and assisted Hunith in her efforts until they'd lain out blankets enough for him to sleep on.

"I think it best you get some rest now," she suggested. "You look truly exhausted. We can speak more in the morning."

"Hunith? I… Thank you," Mordred said quietly. _Thank you for stopping me from committing murder. Thank you for turning me back into myself._ "We've only met the once, and already you treat me with such graciousness I can never hope to repay. You've been nothing but kind to me."

"Silly boy; why should I be anything else?" asked Hunith, wearing a quirky grin that sent an arrow of lightning through Mordred's heart: it looked just like Merlin's smile. "You're a good man, Mordred, anyone can see that." He fought against the hot tears threatening to spill over again. "And I'm very fond of you. Already you feel like a second son to me."

Mordred took several long strides forward, and swept Hunith into his arms. She gave a quiet "Oh!" of surprise at the hug, but immediately wrapped her arms around him in return, rubbing his back gently.

Chuckling quietly, Mordred stepped back and wiped at his eyes. "Sorry."

"Apologies aren't needed, I assure you."

"Sleep well."

"And you, Mordred. Wake me if you need anything."

* * *

_The field was strewn with bodies of the dead, too many for her eyes to count. She had fallen to her knees, her army defeated, her fight for freedom lost. Slowly she turned up her bowed head, her dark stringy hair parting so she might see the man in front of her._

_It was Mordred. He stared down at her with sadness. She blinked, and realized that he wasn't alone. Firmly holding his right hand was Merlin, looking down at her with considerably less kindness._

"_If only you had learned to love again, Morgana," said Mordred sadly._

"_No," she protested, trying and failing to drag herself to her feet. "I can love. I _can_."_

"_If this is what you call love," he replied, "I pity you." He and Merlin turned and walked several paces away. Morgana's eyes followed them desperately, her soul feeling battered, her body weak. She wanted to cry. She'd only been trying to do the _right thing.

_Then she saw it, lying on the ground, the corpse of her brother and enemy, Arthur Pendragon. A slow smile flickered across her face. At least in this she had succeeded, even if she was to die._

_But then Mordred reached down, and the king she'd thought dead grasped his arm and was hauled to his feet. Wincing terribly, Arthur reeled on his feet, nearly fainting. Merlin was immediately at his other side, and the two men supported their king between them._

"_No… Mordred!" He turned back to her. "Mordred, please," she begged. "Please, help me."_

"_I cannot," the druid whispered. "I am sorry, Morgana. May the gods shelter and protect you."_

_He turned his back on her, leading Arthur and Merlin away. Morgana called after them until her voice was hoarse, but there was no reply, no indication that she'd been heard. Finally, she collapsed._

The sorceress bolted upright in her bed, gasping, sweat pouring off her face. She shivered, drawing her blanket more firmly over her. It had been a long time since she'd had such a dream. The type of dream she'd come to recognize as having prophetic meaning.

Morgana trembled, her body shaking with fear. Is this how her story would end? With Mordred fighting against her and causing her ruin? But wasn't her doom meant to be Emrys?

She gritted her teeth. It didn't matter. She could change the futures in her visions. She had no intention of letting Emrys destroy her either, so she certainly wouldn't let _this _dream come to pass.

* * *

When Hunith woke in the morning, it was to find Mordred gone. She was worried for the young man, but somehow she wasn't entirely surprised. She found also that he'd left her a note. She picked it up from the table.

_Hunith,_

_There are no words to express how sorry I am for leaving before you wake. I wish with all my heart that I might simply stay here, with you, but my mission doesn't allow it._

_I want to thank you, from the depths of my heart. You cannot understand what you have done for me. You gave me light during a dark time. You reminded me of the man that I am. You saved me. I will never forget your kindness._

_In all my life, I never had a mother. If I had, I would have longed for one just as you. I would be proud to be the son of such an extraordinary woman. While I don't believe I deserve you, you have willingly taken me under your wing and treated me as your own. I will be forever grateful to you for giving that gift to me, however undeserved. No matter what happens, I will always hold a place in my heart for you._

_He who would have been blessed to be your son,_

_Mordred._

* * *

_A/N: I've been thinking about maybe writing another short fluffy oneshot and just randomly inserting it into the story, like I did way back at, what, chapter 16? What do you guys think? Got any ideas?_


	38. What the Future Holds

_Author's Note: Hello to all my lovely readers! I've missed you! Here we are, getting into the last two episodes. WARNING: spoilers for episodes 12 and 13. All my love to you fabulous reviewers who really make writing this story worth every second._

_Now here's what's up. There is so much going on in the two-part season finale that, while I would love to cover every single scene and detail in my story, I just can't. So I'm trusting you all to remember all the details of what happened. I'm moving through events quickly, going from this to that, so it may seem choppy or incomplete, and I apologize for that. I made this chapter extra long because... well it just worked out that way, but you can consider it my apology for any under-par writing and for the long periods of time between updates._

_Thank you guys for reading!_

* * *

Mordred was relieved that Hunith had brought him to his senses. He no longer wished for Merlin and Arthur to share in his agony and then to die. But he knew now that Merlin had always been wrong. Arthur could never change. His mind was too set in its beliefs.

In any ordinary man this wouldn't have been a crime deserving of death. But Arthur was no ordinary man. He was King of Camelot, and his false beliefs had already been the cause of too many innocents' deaths. Mordred could no longer live with himself if he chose to stand by and watch this happen again and again and again. Arthur had to be stopped. It wasn't fair, and Mordred didn't like it, but it was the right thing to do.

He didn't seek Arthur's death as vengeance. Killing Arthur wouldn't bring Kara back. It wouldn't repair the newest tear in his heart. And Mordred believed honestly that Arthur wasn't an evil man. He was a good one. The thought of killing Arthur was enough to churn his stomach, but his sense of duty, of right and wrong, had finally overtaken his love for Arthur. Arthur had betrayed him, failed him.

Only now did Mordred realize that he'd been betraying his _own _people the entire time he'd served as a knight. To atone for this, he owed his people their freedom restored. The young druid man knew there was only one way he could succeed in this mission. So when he left Ealdor early that morning, before the sun had risen, he set out to find the witch Morgana.

* * *

A week passed, then two. Merlin was like a ghost in the castle, speaking only when spoken to, and keeping to himself. His friends let him, as most of them were doing just the same. The citadel was a very unhappy place to live.

One day a distracted Percival received a deep cut on his forearm during training. The knight responsible apologized profusely, but Percival brushed him off. It was his fault for letting his mind wander during practice, he knew that. Arthur ordered him off to Gaius' to get the wound cleaned and bandaged.

He sat blankly on a bench in the physician's chambers, allowing Gaius to silently do his job. Just as Gaius was finishing, Merlin entered the room, carrying an armful of supplies. He stopped when he saw Percival. They met eyes, and immediately looked away.

Of all their friends, Percival and Merlin had been avoiding one another the most. They both knew that Merlin had been Mordred's lover and Percival his closest friend. They also both knew that they were the two most responsible for Kara's death, and Mordred's subsequent heartbreak and escape. It may have been Arthur who ordered the execution, but it was they who put Mordred and Kara in their cells. Both were swamped with burning regret, and seeing the other only reminded each man of the shame of their betrayals.

"Well, you're all patched up," said Gaius. "Just be sure not to put too much strain on that arm for a time."

"I won't. Thank you, Gaius."

Not wasting any time, Percival rose to his feet and swiftly tromped out the door. Merlin felt a tightening in his chest. He followed his instincts and raced out the door after the big man.

"I miss him."

Just like that, weeks of silence were broken. Percival stopped in his tracks. Merlin slowly came down the stairs until he stood only a step above the knight. Percival looked at him.

"So do I."

"But he had magic," said Merlin carefully. "Surely that changed your mind about him?" Percival's jaw tightened and his eyes turned away, flickering with annoyance. Merlin's head tilted curiously. "Or maybe it didn't. Did you already know?"

"He never said a word," he answered. "I assume you didn't know either."

"Why?"

"You would've told Arthur," Percival stated, shrugging. "Wouldn't've been in love with him."

"Hmm." For a second Merlin didn't respond. Then he took a deep breath. "Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else. Somewhere more private." Percival raised an eyebrow at him, but Merlin's expression was steady. Shrugging half-heartedly, he jogged away down the stairs. Merlin followed. They traveled in total silence until they reached Percival's bedchamber.

Percival closed the door behind them. "All right, what is it?"

"I knew," said Merlin bluntly. Percival stared at him in shock. "To be precise, I've known for about, oh… ten years."

"_Ten years_?" he repeated. "But he only _came_ to Camelot-"

"The first time he came he was just a boy. But he was a druid, so, of course, Uther was trying to catch him. If he had, he would've executed him." Dumbstruck by the revelation, Percival simply stared. "I found him, in the square. Hid him from Uther, with Morgana's help. That was back when she… Well, you know. We had to keep him hidden from Arthur when he came around looking. But in the end Arthur helped us smuggle him out of the castle. I've known about his magic ever since then."

"Are you saying that Arthur knew about it?" asked Percival disbelievingly. The manservant shook his head.

"He didn't know. He just thought Mordred was an innocent druid boy. Which he was. But he had no idea that Mordred was also a powerful sorcerer."

"And how did _you_ know it then?"

Merlin almost snorted. "Saw it. The guards caught his father, and executed him. When it happened, Mordred screamed, and Morgana's mirror shattered. Arthur wasn't there to see it."

"Why are you telling me this?" Percival asked, becoming on edge.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. Thought it might be something you'd like to know. And I gathered that the fact that Mordred's a sorcerer doesn't bother you. Am I right?"

Slowly, Percival nodded. "Magic wasn't… outlawed… where I was born. It's never really felt right to me, this kingdom-wide prejudice." Finally his wary reservedness vanished, replaced with tension and something near a scowl. "It makes me so angry, I can barely stand to look at the other knights. They used to be his friends, and now they act like he was something bad all along, like his magic makes him that way. They don't see it. They don't see that we drove him to leave. I'm sure I woulda done the same in his place. How anyone could bear living in a place where their kind are thought of with such fear and disgust… I don't understand it."

Merlin barked out a laugh, unable to restrain himself. Percival shot him a sharp look. "Sorry, it's just… you don't…" Merlin sighed, smiling bitterly to himself. "There are reasons for people to do that."

"Right. I s'pose Mordred would've talked to you about it."

"He had hope in Arthur," divulged the warlock softly. "He loved Arthur. I told him, I _promised_ him… that Arthur would change someday. And he _will_. But I'm afraid Mordred must've given up all hope now. I worry what he'll do."

"What do you mean?"

"Until recently, Mordred was still close to Morgana."

Percival's eyes flew wide open. "He _what_?" he hissed.

"They've had a bond since he was a child," Merlin snapped back. "He had reasons."

"But- Morgana's- she-"

"I'm afraid he'll return to her."

"He wouldn't."

"He might. He will."

Merlin's gaze was steadfast, leaving no room for doubt. Percival stumbled, then landed himself heavily in a chair, eyes staring at nothingness. "If they attack Camelot together, we won't stand a chance."

"We can't think like that," Merlin lectured. "We've just got to be more alert than ever. If I'm right, Morgana will attack soon. Once Mordred joins her, they'll come."

* * *

Mordred was soon across the border, but he continued to travel for weeks. Mostly he stayed in the forests, where he felt most at ease, but he visited the occasional town or village. It was in one of these that he first heard news of troops moving, an army massing.

He picked up every tidbit of information he could find, following the trail in the direction the rumors lead. He developed a routine to his days. He would wake, cook breakfast, walk, rest for lunch, walk, stop for the night, cook dinner, study his book of runes, and sleep. Day by monotonous day passed by.

Finally, nearly two months after Kara's execution, Mordred felt a tingling presence in his mind, one that he recognized well. Morgana was nearby. Taking precaution, Mordred decided to leave his knapsack behind, unwilling to give Morgana its contents. He buried it beside a tree and marked the tree with a pulse of his magic so he would always be able to find it.

The abandoned—though not any longer—fortress where Morgana and her men resided was easy to locate. When he arrived at the gates and spoke his intent, he was herded inside harshly. He was brought to Morgana, who sat on a stone throne, gazing down at him.

Ignoring the ache in his gut, Mordred revealed what he knew. He told her Emrys' true identity, knowing that Merlin was an unrelenting obstacle between his people and their quest for freedom from Arthur. He wished there was another way, but there was not.

Morgana took a moment to process the shocking news. Mordred could almost see in her eyes the utter devastation his words brought to her, the total reconstruction of everything she'd once believed true. After the confusion passed, he spotted a moment of annoyance, then hurt, then anger.

"That meddling wretch will die," she snarled, launching herself from her throne and stomping away, past Mordred and to the chamber's exit. Wide-eyed with panic, Mordred lunged to his feet and rushed after her. Seething, Morgana slammed the doors open with her magic, moving swiftly down the empty hall.

"_No_, Morgana, you mustn't!" cried Mordred, grabbing desperately at her arm. Sneering, she yanked it back, her eyes blazing with fire as they met his. Chastised, the druid pulled his hands back to his body, content that he had her attention. She began to walk again, but her pace was less hurried and he knew that she was listening as he walked steadily beside her. "There must be some other way. We can…" He fumbled quickly for an idea, _any _idea. "…take him, lock him up until the battle is over."

Morgana shot him a disbelieving look. "With magic as powerful as he has, he will escape."

"There must be something," he pressed. "He will be an ally worth having once all this is past."

"Merlin would never ally with us."

There was a lump in his throat as he softly begged, "Please."

Morgana stopped in her tracks, eyes filling with sudden understanding and incredulity. She stared at Mordred as though she didn't even know him. "Don't tell me you still have feelings for him," she scoffed. "After what he's done to you?"

"I do," he replied with quiet conviction. The witch's lips curled hatefully.

"Then why have you come crawling back to me?" she demanded.

"Because you are right," answered Mordred helplessly, quietly speaking the truth in his heart. "Because… love is more important than anything." Morgana's brow crinkled suspiciously, her eyes flicking between his. Swallowing harshly, Mordred explained further, his words slow. "They killed someone I loved. I believed Arthur would change, but even the plea of one whom he claimed as a brother could not sway him from his course.

"The druids and the sorcerers, my people, my _family_, those I love, have been long persecuted under the Pendragon rule. I mistakenly believed that Arthur and his knights would be loyal to their chosen family, but they did not have it in their hearts." His jaw clenched, as much from a need to keep himself from tears as from a passionate conviction. "But I _am_ loyal to my family. My true family. You were right about Arthur all along. And I-"

He broke off as his voice cracked. There was no warmth or sympathy in Morgana's expression, but that was good. Cold and calculating judgment was about all he could handle right now. "I was wrong about Merlin. They must be stopped before one more innocent member of my family is killed."

* * *

Reports had been flooding into Camelot of an army gathering beyond the border. It was almost a relief to the knights to finally hear news of the war they'd all been expecting. This meant that they had warning, they no longer had to fear a surprise attack. They had time to prepare themselves to face Morgana.

Arthur ordered a large continent of knights to be stationed at the border garrison at Stawell, the closest to the rumored location of Morgana's forces, and the most likely place for an attack. Among them were Gwaine and Leon. Merlin and Percival shared a last meal with their friends the night before their departure, promising to see them soon. Merlin left their company the earliest, saying that he needed a good night's rest, as serving Camelot's king was a tiring occupation. Leon left not too long after, leaving Gwaine and Percival suddenly alone.

The air held an unhappy tension. The two best friends had been on edge lately, barely speaking, and rarely cordially, ever since their brief meeting in the tavern. Both men _wanted_ to speak. Neither knew what to say. War had a way of reminding the knights of the dangers of their job, the constant possibility of never seeing a friend again, and it put altered perspectives back into place. But it could not erase the tension of recent weeks.

When the silence lingered a minute too long, Gwaine huffed out a frustrated breath, shoving his chair back and rising to his feet. Percival's pulse began to race, thoughts consumed with the fear of something bad—and permanent—happening at Stawell that would make this their last meeting. He hoped to death it wouldn't, but what if it did? He couldn't bear to think that their friendship would end here, like this.

"Gwaine, wait!" he burst, hurrying to his feet. Gwaine stopped, but his nostrils flared and he couldn't meet Percival's eyes. "I don't want… Look. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I hurt you, I'm sorry about how things've been for the past couple weeks. I am, really. It's been… a hard time."

"You miss him. Don't you," Gwaine said softly, eyes drifting to Percival. He seemed sure of his words, but it was clear he didn't like them. Percival looked back imploringly.

"Can you honestly say that you don't?" he pressed, taking a step closer to his friend. Gwaine looked away again.

"He was a traitor and a sorcerer."

"He was our friend and our brother."

Gwaine's eyes snapped to him almost of their own accord. "You _really_ cared about Mordred, didn't you?" Percival looked surprised.

"Of course."

"You did spend a lot of time with him before… it happened."

"We'd become very close," agreed Percival. Gwaine's expression hardened again. A fire of anger lit in Percival's belly. "You know, funny enough, I thought you were better than them."

Gwaine's eyes flashed with wounded shock. "Who?"

"The other knights. I thought at least that _you_ wouldn't be so ignorant, so… _unkind_ as to think that Mordred was never a good friend. His magic made no difference. He was as good a friend to me as you've been."

The other knight only looked more annoyed at this. "Well. I'm glad that you and Mordred bonded so tightly. I didn't realize. I'll leave you to your grief."

"_Gwaine_." Percival's large hand snapped forward and wrapped around Gwaine's forearm, halting him in his attempt towards the door. Gwaine's eyes flashed to meet his. Not releasing his tight grip, Percival's expression softened considerably. He inhaled tightly. "Gwaine, you're the best friend I have and I'd never forgive myself if you left now and something happened to you at Stawell. Please… can we sort this out?"

The tension bled out of Gwaine as the quietly sad feeling that Percival was exuding infected him. The taller man slowly let go of his arm. A minute of silence drifted past, Gwaine lost in his thoughts and Percival watching his friend patiently. When Gwaine looked at him again, he gave a softly teasing smile and said, "I don't know what I'll do in Stawell without my human shield to hide behind if any fighting breaks out."

Percival chuckled his relief. "Right. Like you would ever run and hide from a fight."

"Well, I'll… miss you all the same." He clapped a hand on Percival's shoulder. Rolling his eyes, Percival grinned and wrapped his arms around Gwaine, pulling his best friend into a tight, nearly suffocating hug. Gwaine squeezed back just as hard, as Percival had known he would.

"When you make it home," Percival said after releasing the smaller man, "we'll get to work really making things right again."

"Agreed. But I'm glad we talked. I don't know how I could get through this thing without you."

"Don't worry," assured Percival with a smile. "You won't have to. You never will."

"No?"

"Nope. We're never gonna leave each other. We're gonna grow old and fat together, and we'll always be there by each others' sides. That's what we're gonna do."

"Well _you_ may grow fat," teased Gwaine, poking the other man's stomach, "but _I_ will always have this fine, toned muscle. How else am I gonna seduce the ladies?"

"Definitely not with your less than charming personality," Percival agreed. Gwaine punched him in the arm, and he laughed.

* * *

Once the ball got rolling, it just didn't stop. Everything was moving so quickly. Morgana tested her ability to rob a man of his magic. The cruelty of the act disgusted Mordred, but so grateful was he that she'd acquiesced to his pleas not to kill Merlin that he couldn't bring himself to seriously protest. There was a part of his brain that whispered mockingly, _Losing his magic will be worse than death to Merlin. Being unable to protect Arthur will be worse than dying._

But Arthur had to die. And Mordred was selfish. He didn't want Merlin to get what Merlin wanted. He just couldn't live knowing that Merlin was dead. He was being selfish, and he knew it. He didn't try to curb the impulse.

Only days later, their plan to take Merlin's magic from him was executed, and then the war began. Mordred and Morgana sent men into Stawell, one of the border towns of Camelot. The two sorcerers remained outside the city and used their magic to wreck even more destruction, burning the city to the ground. The screams of the dying echoed in Mordred's ears that night. Walls grew up around his heart to keep them out and his sanity in.

More days went by. Mordred and Morgana waited to hear word of the king's response to their first attack. Morgana, knowing her brother's noble heart, predicted that he would risk losing everything by riding out to meet her army, for the sake of protecting Camelot's people. Mordred couldn't help but agree. Morgana seemed to sneer at her perception of Arthur, and the young man kept his opinion to himself.

The time came for their arranged meeting with the traitor girl, Eira. As he watched her ride nearer, a passionate disdain flooded him. She was a vile creature, nothing more than a selfish whore, giving her body to Gwaine and betraying his trust just to get a few gold coins from Morgana. Mordred regretted having to associate with her in any way. He couldn't respect her, and he couldn't keep himself from hating a woman who would betray his friends, betray _Gwaine_, in the way that she was. Every cell in his body ached for her elimination.

When he stepped out to meet her, his sword went straight to her throat, perhaps with a little more venom in the action than there ought to have been. Only her usefulness kept him from cutting. Morgana gently reprimanded him, and he reluctantly drew the sword away, the hate inside of him not diminishing in the slightest.

Eira confirmed their predictions. Arthur did plan to ride out and meet them, and Eira helpfully supplied the location. Just as the distasteful woman began to leave—bag of gold in hand—she turned back, seeming almost hesitant for the first time.

"Something else," she said. "The knight said he was taking Merlin somewhere. The Valley of the Fallen Kings, I think." This time she left.

The witch was visibly panicking, unthinkingly stepping towards the spot Eira had just vacated. Much calmer, Mordred was simply confused. What was Merlin doing? Surely not an errand for Gaius at such a time.

_If I were in Merlin's place, what would I do? What plan would he reveal to me were I still with him?_

"Merlin?" repeated Morgana. "Why would Merlin leave Arthur now?"

"Why shouldn't he?" was his reply. He didn't even believe his own words, but his mind was drawing a blank and it frightened him. He'd rather think that Merlin was running away than was up to something that would make him a threat once again. "He's of no further use to his king, after all."

"Perhaps. But why the Valley of the Fallen Kings?"

Mordred looked away, thinking. What significance did the Valley of the Fallen Kings hold? A vague collection of memories stirred in his brain.

"What is it, Mordred?" Morgana asked, noticing his thoughtful expression.

"When I was a boy," he explained slowly, "the druids told me of this special place, a place where magic itself was born. It was said to lie within the valley." The sorcerers realized the truth of the situation at the same time. Pure anger showed on Morgana's face. Mordred felt annoyed with himself for not seeing it sooner. He should have understood immediately. He knew all about the Crystal Cave, of course. It was, after all, where the Crystal of Neahtid originated.

Even so, this feeling was overpowered by a confusing blend of annoyed despair, for now Morgana would feel she had no choice but to kill Merlin, the fate Mordred had done his utmost to prevent, and loyal pride, for it would hardly be Merlin if he simply gave up. "They called it the Crystal Cave."

"This can mean only one thing," said Morgana. "Emrys means to get his powers back."

* * *

Morgana set off immediately for the cave, intent on… Mordred didn't want to think about it. Why did Eira have to tell them this news?! Why couldn't she have simply reported the information Morgana had _asked_ for and then _left_? Mordred's brain pulsed inside his skull, giving him the worst headache he could ever recall having.

Somehow, despite the fear, the heartbreak, the confusion, the guilt, despite every little thought and feeling that flitted however briefly across Mordred's consciousness, there was one thing of which his heart was so certain that not even his brain could refute it. Whatever happened between Morgana and Merlin in the cave, Merlin would live. He had to. It was Merlin. Mordred had faith in his ability to survive, if nothing else.

Or the alternative was simply too terrible to consider.

It was only when Mordred was sitting in his tent later that night that he sat bolt upright in realization. Merlin was going to the _Crystal Cave_, presumably to get his powers back. The very same cave that was filled with a million crystals _exactly like_ the Crystal of Neahtid. Which meant…

Merlin would look into the crystals and glimpse the future. He would gain an advantage over Mordred by knowing what was to come in the battle. He would be able to shape events in Arthur's favor if the future looked bad for them.

That wasn't acceptable. But the solution was, at least, an easy one. Mordred needed to level the playing field. He had to know what Merlin would know.

Mordred rushed out of his tent, putting on a cape as he raced out of the camp. The soldiers ignored him, knowing better than to question their second-in-command. Mordred's feet sped over the ground, sometimes walking sometimes jogging over branches and through trees, following the pull of his own magic that directed him, the light of the moon and stars guiding his way.

It was nearly two hours later that Mordred came to a stop. He knelt on the ground beside the tree and used his magic to dig away the dirt until his bag was uncovered. He drew it out, reached inside, and took out the Crystal of Neahtid. It thrummed with power as it sat in his palm, a power that frightened him, but in the best way. It was addictive; it wanted him to dive deep within his own magic to access that of the crystal.

Standing up slowly, Mordred breathed in and out, bringing his body to a calm state and clearing his thoughts. Then his eyes locked on the mesmerizing object, and he was unable to look away as the pool of his magic was forcibly yanked from him until it wrapped around the crystal, invisibly binding Mordred's core to the Crystal of Neahtid. Mordred then shut his eyes tight, fighting the temptation to open, knowing that if he opened them with his mind still blank, the crystal would show him whatever it pleased. He could not let it be in control. _He_ was the one in control.

He focused his thoughts on the future, on the battle. On Arthur Pendragon, war, _the future_, Camlann. When he was certain that the crystal would bend to his will, Mordred opened his eyes, the blue of his irises shining in the light now pouring from the crystal. The knight was sucked into the vision of the future awaiting him.

_Men fought. Screams echoed. The clang of sword on sword rung loud in his ears. The taste of blood was in his mouth, the smell of sweat and death in the air. It was hot, much too hot, even though the sun was not yet in the sky._

_Mordred strutted through the battle. Some foes he cut down with his sword. Others he defeated easily with his magic. None were a match for him. A ring of Camelot knights—none that had known Mordred intimately—tried to surround him. As one, they all flew backwards through the air, all landing either dead or unconscious. Mordred took only a second to recover from this burst of powerful magic before he attacked his next opponent._

_Colors and sounds shifted. A figure, an old man, appeared suddenly at the top of the cliff. Merlin. The enemy knights around Arthur were the first to be blown off their feet. Arthur stared in shock at his savior as Old Merlin then knocked Morgana unconscious. As soon as he witnessed this, Mordred threw himself aside, hiding out of Merlin's sight. Lightning roiled and a terrible power pushed Morgana's forces back. Aithusa was called off her attack by the Dragonlord. Mordred watched as the Camelot knights pushed forward, regaining hope in their fight._

_Again the image shifted. The sounds of battle were still clear in the air, but Arthur had separated himself from his knights, going over to a wounded man, who died only seconds later. Still hidden, Mordred saw the opportunity, and took it. _

_Hearing the sound of boots, the king's jaw tightened. He rose, spinning around with his sword up high, all set and prepared to fight. Then he stopped, his limbs losing their tension as it became clear that attack wasn't quite upon him. Arthur only looked surprised to see Mordred approaching him for a split second. Then it was as if he'd been expecting it all along._

"_This is your last chance, Arthur," Mordred decried. He leveled his sword threateningly at the King of Camelot. "Accept magic, or pay the ultimate price."_

_Arthur's countenance was grim. "That is something I cannot do."_

"_So be it."_

_The two knights met with a clash of swords and a flurry of movement. Their swords locked together, and they struggled against each other in a play for the upper hand. Mordred grit his teeth and succeeded in breaking the hold, spinning away from the other man, carefully not tripping over any of the corpses littered all over the ground. They circled slowly round each other, eyes locked together more tightly than their swords had been._

"_Why are you doing this, Mordred?" asked Arthur with resigned sadness. "I thought we were friends."_

"_As did I!" Mordred shouted angrily. "I fought beside you, I _protected_ you. _Twice_ I saved your life! I did my duty as a knight, and I loved you, Arthur. And yet you betrayed me. You took from me the last precious thing in the world that was mine."_

"_I had no choice."_

"_There is _always_ a choice."_

"_Then choose to end this, now." _

"_Not until I've gotten what I came for."_

"_And what's that? My head?" asked Arthur dryly. Mordred sneered._

"_You are nothing more than a pawn, Arthur Pendragon. This is about so much more than you, than one foolish man who sits upon a throne."_

"What_ then?"_

"_I _will_ see magic restored to this land," he declared. "If that means killing a man I once loved, tis a price I'm willing to pay."_

"_You would see the kingdom ruled by Morgana's hand?"_

"_Better she than you."_

"_You truly believe that?" Arthur was clearly stunned, if not mildly heartbroken, by this knowledge._

_The sorcerer's lips twisted up in a cruel smile. "With all my heart, Arthur." The words brought a look of poorly concealed pain to the king's face, his body flinching backwards from the obviously intentional use of Guinevere's words. "And now, your time has come."_

_Mordred lunged forward, swinging his sword at Arthur's side. Arthur blocked and parried, but Mordred dodged and countered. Metallic clangs and the scuffling of feet were the only sounds to be heard in the abandoned area of the battlefield. The former friends continued the bout in this way for another minute, slashing and blocking and turning and thrusting, neither knight gaining an advantage, and both men starting to tire and sweat heavily, the strain in their muscles becoming woefully apparent._

_Suddenly, a feeling, or thought, or glance—Mordred couldn't be sure what it was—set off warning bells inside of his head. The druid immediately whispered hurried words under his breath, throwing his arms up as his eyes flashed golden with magic._

_An invisible barrier of pure energy surrounded him. The protective bubble was meant to block out everything magical, and Mordred was pleased to feel the sensation of Merlin's magic crashing against it, proving that the spell was holding up. Because the enchantment blocked all things magical, Arthur quickly discovered that his sword could not penetrate the air around Mordred (just as Mordred's could not _leave_ the bubble). Arthur yelled in frustration, but Mordred ignored his words, his eyes turning up towards the tops of the cliffs instead. There he spotted Merlin._

"_Emrys!" he roared, the anger in his heart filling his voice. Arthur even stopped his attempts to penetrate the barrier with Excalibur, spinning instead, with surprise, to follow the direction of Mordred's gaze. He saw the old sorcerer that had, for some unknown reason, intervened on behalf of Camelot earlier in the battle. Confusion knit his brow together._

"_Come down, you coward! Face me as a man!" Mordred continued to shout. Old Merlin said nothing, merely stared down at him coldly. "Are you pleased with yourself? _This_ is what has come of your arrogance and your malice. This is _your fault_, Emrys! It all rests on your shoulders. You destroyed me; you destroyed _everything_. It is because of you that Morgana became what she is. Because of _you_ that all this has happened!"_

"_I am not responsible for your decision to kill innocent people," answered Merlin sharply. "To murder your own friends."_

"_My _friends_?" the druid practically shrieked. He gave a humorless laugh, so empty that it sent shivers down the spines of the other two men present. "What _friends_ have I? Not you, Emrys! None of _them_. Arthur betrayed me as the rest stood by and watched. I would have given my life for any of theirs, and yet not _one_ of them would speak even a _word_ on my behalf! Least of all you."_

_The fury at his betrayal boiled in his gut, twisting his insides like a tornado. It enraged him even more that Merlin was still just _standing_ there, staring blankly down at him, not responding in any way to his accusations._

"_You… You _killed_ Kara with your meddling! It's because of you that she and so many like her are dead!" he yelled. Still, Merlin said nothing. Mordred clenched his jaw. "You cannot argue because you know it is true," he continued. His lips twitched with disgust and hate. "Well, come down, you monster. Come down and finish it. Take the life of yet another person that you ruined, that you _abandoned_ for the sake of this one stupid, hateful, ignorant man!" His expression relaxed into a mocking smile. "Or better still, come and watch as I rip your heart from you the way that you ripped mine from me."_

"_You will not harm Arthur," the warlock declared firmly. Mordred was struck dumb for all of a moment. Merlin had finally spoken again, after all of Mordred's angry accusations, and _that_ is all that he had to say?_

"_You truly care about _nothing_ else, do you? All the time I spent trying to _prove_ myself to you, to assure you of my affections." The two former lovers didn't notice Arthur reeling backwards with shock. "But it seems I was the one fooled more soundly. I thought you cared. But you never cared for me. Not like you care for him." Mordred pointed his sword at Arthur without moving his eyes from Merlin. "You would forsake anyone and anything in this kingdom for him, wouldn't you? And yet still he knows nothing. Why not tell him the truth? Or shall I do it for you?"_

_Merlin's nostrils flared at the threat. "Mordred, the path you have chosen will accomplish nothing-"_

"_Will it not?" he interrupted. "I'd say that Arthur's end is a _great_ accomplishment."_

"_Those are Morgana's words, not yours."_

"_I believed in him. I believed in _you_ when you said to give him time, that he would change. Well you were _wrong_."_

"_No. He will still fulfill his destiny."_

"_Open your eyes, you blind fool!" Mordred yelled. His chest heaved with each breath. How could Merlin still be so goddamned _stubborn_? "Even now he refuses to see sorcery as anything but evil! Even after you have saved him, time and time again, even this very day in battle. You have come to his aid, as you always do, and he learns _nothing_ from it!"_

_The warlock's voice was still loud but calm, trying to placate the younger man. "It doesn't have to be like this, Mordred-"_

"_I _loved_ you!" he screamed, the words ripping from his raw throat. There were tears gathering in his eyes, and his expression quivered on the brink between anger and anguish. "I loved you, Emrys, with every piece of my soul! I would have given up everything for you. I would have stayed by your side always."_

"_So you say," said Merlin dryly. "And yet here we are."_

_Mordred was shrieking now, lines of tears racing down his cheeks unheeded. "Because you _betrayed_ me! You sacrificed a good person." His body shook. He forced his hands into trembling fists. "I _loved_ her, damn you! _All_ you had to do was _keep quiet_," he snapped. "You just had to let us escape. And you did not. That was all I asked from you. I would have done _anything_ for you, and you repaid my loyalty by _turning me in_!"_

"_I did my best," Merlin shot back sharply, finally allowing real emotion—frustration, desperation—to infect his voice. "She was offered a chance to live. She chose not to take it."_

"_I have always kept your secret, Emrys. From Morgana. From Arthur. From _everyone_. And yet, you could not keep one secret for me."_

"_I kept secrets for you, Mordred. Don't pretend otherwise. I kept your secrets from Arthur as well. It was treason, what I did for you."_

_Mordred shook his head, tears still glistening on his cheeks. "Enough. Enough of this. I am done with you. You have lost your chance to be honest with him. This ends."_

"_I'm warning you, Mordred-"_

_The scream that Mordred released was powerful, more powerful than any he'd done before. It exploded the protective bubble around him and sent Arthur flying through the air in one shrill blast of pure magical power. _

_But the scream was not only an audible vocalization of his rage. It was also inside his very mind, radiating out from the roots of his power, the very core of his being, shoving its way through his telepathy into Merlin's mind. Merlin gave a great roaring cry of surprised pain, crumpling helplessly to the ground._

_The scream had used up every last drop of magic that Mordred had within him. His soul felt weak._

_But no matter. Merlin had clearly been rendered unconscious by the force of the telepathic blow, so was out of the way for now. And physically, Mordred was fine. He could survive this. At least long enough to accomplish one last deed._

_A dark Mordred turned eyes back on his king, and he walked steadily over to where the golden-haired man was hurriedly pushing himself back onto his feet. Sweat and dirt covered his face, and it was clear from the harsh state of his breathing that he was already exhausted. And still he insisted on fighting, standing his ground. Never one to give up, that was Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King._

_Mordred stopped, meeting Arthur's eyes, even as Arthur swayed on his feet. The druid lifted his sword slowly._

_With no warning he attacked, dashing forward and slicing the sword down upon Arthur's head. Arthur impressively managed to block the swing, but the effort was already too much for him. He was panting, his knees shaking, as Mordred's sword pressed down against his._

"_Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon," whispered Mordred. His sword drew back, the sun glancing off of it, and then-_

_Arthur's eyes drifted down, staring at the sword sticking out of his body. The sight of his own demise seemed to fuel in him the strength for one last desperate act._

_Mordred's eyes flew wide open at the impact of an angry sword being driven through his gut and _twisted_. He gave a choked sound. Then, still standing, the light went from his eyes. His body collapsed._

Mordred's shaking hands dropped the crystal. He gasped for air, stumbling backwards. He could feel the phantom pain in his own stomach, though there was no wound there. Yet.

His whole body shuddered with exhaustion, fear, and absolute heartbreak. To see such things before they came to pass…

Mordred felt sickness rising within him. Sure enough, he dropped to his knees and vomited. When his stomach was empty, he remained in place, trembling for another minute. Exerting a great mental and physical effort, the young man rose to his feet and carefully approached the crystal once more.

He'd seen his own death, and that had been… unpleasant. Witnessing his triumph over Arthur had held a certain satisfaction… but mostly it had only served to make him ill. He didn't truly wish to watch Arthur die, even if he knew that Arthur's death was the only option.

But there was more yet that needed to be seen. He had to know the ending of this saga. With himself dead, and Arthur quickly following, what would become of Merlin and Morgana? Of Camelot? Had his sacrifice, the sacrifice of so many lives, been worth it? That's all the assurance that Mordred needed. Just that one thing. Anything at all to make his messy waste of a life worth something.

Taking a shaky breath, Mordred picked up the crystal once more. He dove into the pool of his magic, latching onto an idea, a thought, so that the crystal would know what he needed to see.


End file.
